Fire Emblem Crossfic: Transcend Reality
by FellBranded
Summary: Broken spirits, an Exalt slain and a dead world overrun by a Fell threat, borne through the foulest of rituals; Ancient hatred incarnate, the embodiment of ruin.. Truly, the realm of Ylisse had been dealt a blow that it could not recover from. Surely, all would perish, nary a soul left alive to tell the tale. .. At least, not in this reality. Fire Emblem Fates/Awakening Crossfic.
1. Prologue: Alternate Premonition

**# Prologue**

## Alternate Premonition

'..Hey Robin?'

'What is it, Anna?'

'What'd you do, living with someone you knew you couldn't trust?'

'Hmm..'

The response had come out absent- minded and contorted, as if the message itself had been warped by thoughts outside the ken of the quirky peddler, who had now in turn furrowed an eyebrow at the Tactician himself.

It was different from her usual visage; The crooked face she pulled when made an offer far beneath her expected price, the incessant fluttering eyelashes she produced upon hearing the latest Risen attack had taken out precious cargo, crippling the foresight of future profits so meticulously planned out beforehand, it was unlike any of those regular antics Robin had come to expect from Anna. And so he, after giving the redhead a carefully examining gaze over the stilted frame of his spectacles, removed these tender reading lenses he had previously been wearing throughout the course of this short exchange and wearily rubbed the itchy bags underneath his eyes, only reddening the black spots and not lessening the fatigue by any margin.

'Well..' He meandered, setting the copper framing down on his dressoir and giving her his full attention, ' I suppose it depends on the type of person you're dealing with. I make it a point to try and not act prematurely, but if the stakes are high enough..'

'Precautionary measures might be inevitable'. She added, ending his unfinished sentence before he could finish it. 'Is that what you're getting at?'

He blinked visibly, taken aback by her abrasive ways, as per usual.

'That was the conclusion I was working up to, yeah.' He snarked, painfully shifting his weight in the creaky old chair he was seated in and sinking into a laid back position.

'Oh, sweetie, is it that old scar acting up again?' She exclaimed, taking note of the strained back and unnaturally bent hand stuck supporting the spine.

'Shall I fetch my staff?'

That only made him glance at her.

' I thought merchants didn't wield staves.' Was his dry note.

' Oh, but that'd be where you'd be wrong, mister. All of the Anna sisters receive a brief medical course back home.' She retorted, her grin slowly unfurling from her pursed lips;

Charming, as per usual, but to Robin that unburdened glee still remained as off-putting as ever. How could one smile as thus in a world as bleak as this? Wherever they might go, may it be the serene peaks of mt. Prism, the soaring deserts of Plegia or the luscious forests of Ylisse, warning signs were emerging everywhere. And they were becoming unavoidable, whatever one's sense or idea of peace might be. And so the row of white teeth that he was shown now only stung like a big neon distraction to the problems at large. A future skirmish, nigh approaching behind a narrow pass? Or maybe an ambush from the dark veil of the night with rioting populace, feeling scared and alone, even though the Shepherds had been trying their utmost. It had all fallen down to him. A task only a Tactician and strategist could amount to. Once again he felt his shoulders wear with the burden of responsibility.

It was hard finding someone to unwind with. Chrom had his own problems, and their little moments of camaraderie and escapism had grown fewer until the point where they rarely occured at all. That's what two consecutive wars does to a friendship. Maybe he'd feel some solace in this... Exchange... Quickly, his rapid mind to mouth produced a swift: 'Where do you all even originate from?' Though he didn't exactly expect an answer, she was bound to act as elusive as ever. Probably, anyway.

"You all"? Gee, I'm not sure if I remember.. Maybe a quick sash might jog my memory?' That made him grimace sourly. He had forgotten this particular Anna had such a penchant for nicknaming everyday objects, especially the ones revolving around currency. She possessed quite a knack for it too, which automatically elevated her above the rest of the samey crimson haired bourgeois. Well, that and her control of the Outrealm Gates of yore.

'Again with the money, huh? Is that what this is about? I can assure you we'll pay your stipend within the next tenday, but seeing as funds from the homefront have been-'

' No, no, no.' She interjected with a flick of the finger and a glint in her eye. ' The Ylissean pay hasn't exactly been.. Prolific .. But it's been forthcoming at least, and there are plenty of other worlds where they adhere to a different model, exchange rates have been quite profitable for this lucky gal recently!'

And that was the exact moment when it struck him. A bout of lightning to his head, he found himself rapidly connecting pathways his mind hadn't tread on before.

' These... Alternative realms, you've visited them often, correct? ' He put forward, inspecting her with his calm hazel eyes. The gaze was met with her own amber pair, conveying a sudden distance as the question reverbed in the confines of her headspace.

'Alternative realms? You mean, alternative to this? Different stories?' She exclaimed wearily.

'Different outcomes.' He corrected. 'Different endings.'

And that was what he was getting at. Exploring the Anna Enigma (as he had aptly named it in the past) could wait -who really cared where the slew of peddlers came from anyhow; their presence meant good business- it was his uncertainty of mind that had the precedence. This identity crisis, something which his ratio could not fully comprehend. He had never been a religious man. Not to Grima, the human construct of despair, or to Naga, in herself ultimately only a creation of something higher as well; the idea of religion or worship had always seemed like drab and futile concept to him, who due to his amnesia had no recollection nor nurture in the arts. But where his mind couldn't aid him, where a careful eye or calculation failed woefully, perhaps clairvoyance would provide him with the answer he sought. And that was precisely the crux of this situation. At the heart of the matter, the object of his worry was shared with the reason that spawned this conversation in the first place. A vision of an alternate timeline in which Anna, in one of her sporadic ventures into the unknown, had unfortunately uncovered a terrible truth. One that could go two fold in either way here, going off on the many realities she had witnessed it happen in and in how many it had played out differently. Ironically, the nightmare that had plagued him every night was also what she had seen now, and why she had come here today And without knowing it from one another, both shared the same question:

Was Chrom fated to die by Robin's hand?

* * *

 **Greetings! 'Tis I, Fellbranded! I used to have a couple of active postings on this site, all having to do with Fire Emblem under a different pseudonym, but I have since taken those down. I wanted to start uploading stuff again, especially since I've been working on this crossfic for a while. I'm actually already quite a few chapters in, but will stick to weekly uploads (apart from the double feature I'm uploading to kick this off) so I can give myself time to finish. Hopefully y'all will enjoy this, please write a review if you did or didn't :)**


	2. Chapter I: Desolate Escape

**# Chapter I**

## Desolate Escape

The soil flared with strikes of malignant breath, the air stank with despair. An ashy cloud of abyssal nothingness was spreading further and further over the fields, covering the numerous mountains and valleys alike in a blanket of desolation: Primal fear, disgust and wretched panic. Abhorrent monstrosities that could only signify the return of an ancient evil. One Fell vice: The Dark Dragon, Grima, Host of Agony. The wicked iniquity of man and dragonkind.

Indeed, unbeknownst to the fleeing civilians underneath the foreboding clouds, these gases, spawning many horrid creations of flesh and void from the depths of the now ethereal Thabean abyss, were perhaps their greatest ally in this hell; all because these shadows hid a sight far more terrifying and abhorrent. One that could uproot the toughest of warriors and nail them to the ground, begging for their lives in placid fear. The countenance of this malevolent beast was enough to overstep any loyalties and orders. Its rejection of the mortal plane was unavoidable, you could feel it writhing in your gut. The terrors of Risenkind that now roamed the many Arachanean lands of old were once the source of many campaigns and battles alike, but those battles were now lost, and their kingdoms lay open and exposed. Truly, these were the final days of this dying world. Any struggle now would be nothing more than a deathrattle.

...Not that such sentiments would stop Robin from trying.

'Missile units in the eastern flank, cover the retreat of the skirmishers up north. Halbediers, form a pike wall in the vacant space between our line! The gap must be plugged, quickly, there's no time!'

The battle for Ylisse had been lost, as had the campaign against Validar and his fetid Grimleal cult. Chrom.. Was no more.. The Exalt, a shining beacon of hope in the last days before the apocalypse, had laid down his life in the battle against the dreaded fiend, passing his Halidom and purpose over to his daughter, Lucina, as well as his Falchion, which now occupied a permanent space next to its counterpart, where both shared the same trait and reminder: the fact that He was dead, and that the stench of failure would permeate the actions of the girl _again_. Maybe forever so.

Speaking about the young heir, now turned Exalt of whatever was left of Ylisse, where was she? Robin slid down from the mound he had previously occupied before the skirmish and shot the sudden battlefield a quick glance before landing on both feet.

The Risen had caught them unaware, and in a bad position to boot. The supply line and its protectors below the main troop, occupying a lower occupation in the hilly terrain, had become mostly separated when the corporeal husks launched a raid from the nearby forests. The commotion had caused a disarray in their ranks, a dissonance which Robin was now stuck trying to haphazardly mend with pockets of scrappers and clusters of troops. A conventional pike and shot proved difficult to pull off in a situation such as this, and he cursed himself for his own negligence. Maybe a less fatigued Robin could've foreseen this outcome. No, not 'maybe', _definitely_. He was sure of it. Unfortunately, as he was now, after weeklong raids and skirmishes with a relentless foe, the Grandmaster had had his fill of battle. The only thing that kept him going was the responsibility that those around him had placed on his shoulders. A burden that he had never imagined was so heavy during his days as mere consul. His mind now bore the morale and will of the army, a task that the late Exalt had woefully delegated to him, seeing as Lucina, as she was now, wasn't exactly in her right mind to lead. And he was only reminded of his fact even more when he finally laid eyes on her frail figure, blending attacks from both falchions together with unkempt fury in the midst of a Risen flock, seemingly consumed by battle rage. It betrayed her finesse with the blade: the countless drills he had seen her perform at many an early hour in the camps, moves that he realized reminded her of her time spent sparring with her father. Her fighting style clearly showed her transparent lack of self- preservation. She was definitely going all out, channelling a feral bloodlust that shook the tactician to his core.

Ack, best to leave that matter by the wayside for now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Drawing his blade with his right (where the left held a miniature tome in the form of his notebook), he joined the newest rabble of able- bodied fighters that Frederick had managed to round up and directed the group with several short and concise hand motions towards the toppled supply line. Salvaging whatever resources were left was paramount.

Putting the numerous reservations he had left aside, the tactician slung a battlecry the way of his adversaries and threw himself in the thick of it, charging the make-believe spellbook, containing dozens of hastily scribbled incantations, of whom the majority didn't even work, to somehow enter the fray with a big blast.

"It won't be long now." Was what he kept repeating to himself as his blade found putrid flesh and glaived through as if it was slicing slick butter. 'Not much longer.'

He readied his sword arm and threw another successful cut, which hit an artery and immobilized his opponent for a mercy kill. His weapon was highly effective. Not something hinging on his own finesse with the thing, he realized, as he had never been adept at the arts of swordplay. Nevertheless his blade's edge felt... excellent, and he soon came to the conclusion that this had to do with his moniker, repeatedly revised as a mantra not only to himself, but also the troops around. He had been thinking out loud this entire time.

Robin's eyes had been opened.

This was the way forward, the mark of true leadership. Long had he considered himself above the likes of Excellus, the smarmy little man who only controlled with the threat of his master. The Tactician realized he hadn't been acting any different.

He could participate in the battle as much as he liked, trying to convince everyone that the sincerity in his strategies was key, but there was no denying that even _he_ had been leading through Chrom's mercy, or rather his charisma. One which the troops had been sorely lacking since the Exalt's untimely demise.

"Well, here goes nothing.." He mumbled. Stepping back and steeling his resolve, his pupils frantically darted around the terrain, soon finding a suitable place for what he had in mind. One hop- and skip later and he had reached the summit of the natural platform, after which he brandished his blade and pointed it skyward towards its destination.

"Look, men, the Mount Prism is not far away from here! Soon we will be able to perform the Awakening and escape this death trap, hold on for just a while longer!"

The rallying cry was met with a spectrum of cheer. Cream of the crop this army was not, most of the men here were Plegian deserters, leftover Feroxi and whatever remained of the Ylissean forces, picked up along the way during the maddened beeline the Shepherds had been making towards Naga's abode. Trekking through miles of Plegian deadlands and ignoring the pleas of helpless Ylissean villages on the way had been more taxing than anyone could have ever imagined, especially when the helpless citizens recognized the Shepherds, once their guardian militia, now passing by in the same panic that had beset them. The desperate eyes of the mothers as they cradled whatever was left of their families in their arms, the bewildered pair of the eldest son as he approached the Risen that had slain his father with pitchfork in hand and above all the collective angst as the army passed them by. Some Shepherds hadn't been able to take it. Fragile hearts like Donnel and Ricken couldn't stomach the forced negligence, and as such were lost to the endless hoarding mass of thanatophage- riddled deathbringers. Robin hadn't been able to stop them, the same way he hadn't been able to stop the steady stream of deserters. Even though this ragtag band of soldiers were the only organized force left on Arachanea. Even if desertion in this climate almost certainly meant death at the hands of the entombed. Robin had to physically stop himself from thinking that their leave meant more rations for the rest of them. For now, all that was left was to clench his teeth and move forward. Sword and tome in hand, he felt his larynx throb as he barked out the orders, the earth shaking with the tremors of boots and hooves.

Just a little bit more and it'd all pay off. Just one last hurdle, and there'd be relief.

Just one more push towards salvation.


	3. Chapter II: Sting of Numbness

**# Chapter II**

## Sting of Numbness

As the drop of black ink that was the Risen continued to spread its ghastly influence on the dangerously orange-struck skies, its talons eventually reached all over the mountain's edge. Robin couldn't help but instinctively raise a hand towards the sight before him.

And what a revolting sight it was.. The bodies. The death.. Toppled supply carts, broken lances, corpses of riders and their steeds piled over even more corpses of Risen (though the Tactician never trusted those twitching abominations to stay down permanently)..

Wherever Robin cast his eye; he could find naught more than destruction and demise, with the occasional survivor clamoring to their blunted weapons, edges dulled in guts and gore as much as their psyche was.

It was supposed to be the last push before reprieve. It was _supposed_ to be a final effort. One that the Shepherds had no choice but to accomplish.

But accomplish their goals they hadn't, and lost the war they had. Sure, this battle they had ultimately emerged victorious from, but entering the inner sanctum revealed what the Nagaen spawn could only deem as a worst case scenario. And now that all of them lay here, the few survivors to weather the storm that was the sudden outburst of Risen from within the temple, he realized that the Shepherds had ungracefully lost in spades.

Naga was dead. Tiki was dead. Chrom was ... -He couldn't bring himself to finish that thought- And Lucina not at all capable in her current state of mind. Crawling unto his belly and headfirst to his feet, the Tactician couldn't find it in himself to muster the strength to rise. Naga had been taken from her flock, swallowed whole by the multidimensional venality that was the Dark Dragon, Grima. His evil had apparently shown too much for the single Divine Dragonspawn to handle, and now the many frightened prayers of the clergy would fall to deaf ears, and nobody would be left to perform the Awakening ritual. Not even Her Voice had lived to tell the tale. Met her grim demise at the end of a Valmese pike, another casualty stemming from his own ineptitude. Giving up the fight to stand he leaned back and reared his head upwards to the cruel sky, defiant but exasperated, his struggle met only by completely a stretch blackened with unholy flares. His eyes felt prickly, arms felt meek, but he found he couldn't produce any tears. Not anymore, not at this point. He felt his body trying and failing again to cry, only serving to choke his throat and wear his face down even more than it already had been. He was so utterly, inconceivable tired. No more strategies for him to utilize, no grander plan to follow. The air stank with death and despair, merciless crows pecking apart whatever was left of his fleeting army. Maybe if he closed his eyes here now, there'd be no more struggling. Perhaps this was what he got for defying his "destiny".

...Mayhaps he should've just disappeared long before the royal pair found him in that blasted field of green.

Suddenly, he felt an unknown presence closing in from behind, casting a tall shadow over his figure.

Instinctively, he immediately reached for his steel, but as soon as his gloved hand found the twisted grip it struck him that the figure behind him wasn't malicious, or at least didn't bear him any ill will.

How?

Because the tactician wasn't dead.

Had his reaction time worsened to such a degree? His sparring with Chrom used to keep him at least within acceptable fighting bounds.. Gods, he missed Chrom..

All these thoughts had been racing through his head when he turned to face the newcomer, the mental exchange tiring the last vestige of strength out of him. However, what he found was not the battle- broken face of a war cleric, or the drained expression of a Shepherd, but the inquisitive eyes of one certain Anna. They immediately shocked him into action. Not only because it was a small miracle the peddler had made it up the mountain on her own, but also because of the fortitude he witnessed in her eyes. That strength gave him the energy to pick himself up as well, and so he took her outstretched hand, finally rising to his feet.

' ... Naga... She's .. ? ' She muttered.

His head hang low in utter defeat, hazel pair averting her own, finally, a single tear made its way from his ducts to the side of his face, but it only served to enlarge the bloated feeling.

' Yeah. ' Was all he answered. ' She's no more. It's done. '

' Then there's no time to lose. '

That statement took him by surprise, making him flutter his eyelashes involuntarily. Dazzled like a newborn chick, his eyes ghosted the contours of her head. She had her business face on.

' How many men left? ' Was her short question. It had almost sounded like an order.

' Uh, I.. Uh.. Not too many- '. He stuttered.

' So there are still more surviving? That's good. We can't afford to waste any more time. ' she answered. And with that final statement, promptly turned about face and set off, ignoring the stammerings of pain and yelps of anguish, which soon died out as the troops producing them wordlessly rose to their feet and followed in pursuit of this redhaired anomaly, somehow indistinguishable from her pre-apocalyptic look. That's what attracted them, Robin discerned. That glimpse of the past, somehow kept preserved through all of this misery. It was like a flame to many, many sullen moths. However, it was not only her they rallied towards. Robin soon found himself surrounded by a group of Ylisseans himself, including a stoic lucina, silently breathing into her muffler with a haggard gaze. Maybe she had calmed down now.. The Tactician looked around.

Although the hopes and promises had long stifled in the eyes of these individuals, they were still on their feet. And they were alive.

 _But for how long?_ Robin pondered. With all safety nets broken and no more contingency plans left... Well,-

"What the hell do we do now?" He asked Anna, a question to which the peddler had a simple response, only serving to increase Robin's confusion.

'We run.'

He blinked.

'..Run? But.. But where to?'

'Outrealm.'

* * *

 **Alright then, time to upload the second chapter like I said I would! Looking back at how the story starts out is always valuable as a writer, and some readers might notice that I'm not necessarily spending a lot of detail on HOW exactly everything has gone wrong. Don't worry though, it'll all become clear later! If you enjoyed the read (or not), be sure to PM me or write a review, I'd love to hear some feedback, I've been working hard behind the scenes at more chapters so the transition from what I already have on here doc-wise and the new material should in theory be unrecognizable. Hope you have a good day!  
Fellbranded**


	4. Chapter III: Before the Storm

**# Chapter III**

## Before the Storm

And thus, a heated escape, a beaten retreat and a dispirited march eventually led the posse back to the realms of the Halidom, only to find the destruction rising to unparalleled heights, and the count of life plummeting in response. Truly, there wasn't much flock left for the militia to "shepherd" now, only furthering the notion that their last resort had failed, and their struggle been futile.

That is, their struggle in this reality.

Robin hadn't found much time to overthink Anna's curt response after the disastrous venture to the mountain, but the brevity of its nature had left him with much to ponder now that that gruelling trial of constant vigilance had ended. Void of any particularly strong emotion save the fatigue that had beset him constantly ever since this all started, the tactician dryely beheld the campfire before him. The curtain of night had closed as quickly as it had announced itself, reminding him of the supposed time of year; winter, which he noted was just as depressing as the outlook of this nightmarish debacle. He felt his hand involuntarily tighten when the memories of previous winters came flooding back as his back tensed in response, but he had no mind for these empty flashbacks, and simply fixed his gaze on the ardent blaze, melting them away in its dance of flare and flame. Now it was just him and the light again, which outlines he intensely followed. He kept this up for a while, exactly up until something else broke his concentration, leading him to examine himself.

The strategy seemed to be working, something he sardonically noted was the only strategy that had been fruitful as of late. It was then when he noticed the same thing that had struck him before. A single gaze from behind the veil of flame and fire and further beyond that within of one of the supply convoys, which occasionally darted over his presence from its own place behind the linen burlap of the tent. He soon recognized the amber pair to be Anna's, who was, as he assumed at least, conversing with her provisioners, many of which now permanently part of her retinue. Usually it'd be weird to see fellow competitors working together like this with no pay, but not anymore, not now. After all, there's not much to sell in a world where the populace is more concerned with surviving another day rather than growing their wealth. It handicapped their rare ability to do business severely, but their management skills and quick wit would increase the effectiveness of the convoy considerably, and that task was something Robin would gladly expedite to others. Anything to lessen this eternal headache.

He threw a half-conscious gaze towards the tent again, only to find the cloth folding and the figure of the peddling Anna emerge. His eyes fluttered up to her chin, and she intercepted the gaze, taking the lock as an invitation and redirecting her path to meet his.

And as the redhead inquisitively approached, Robin abruptly broke off their gaze as a sudden throb of eldritch energy strong announced its presence, or rather that of the forces elsewhere. The immediate physical reaction forced the tactician to buckle over, cold sweats breaking out all over his body as he had to stabilize himself again with his hand.

'H-hey, Robin? You okay, hon'?' Was the instant reaction of Anna as her figure surfaced from within the dark and into the glow of the fire, trademark eyebrow furrowed in worry.

He had to audibly swallow and could only speak when he felt that his thoughts had been collected again.

' Y-yeah. I'm alright.. I uh- .. I felt something..' He responded, to which his counterpart only nodded. Clearly, he didn't want to disclose what, she could make out that much with her keen eyes, but what he didn't know was that the peddler could probably grasp the concept pretty well, more than he'd imagine.

What Robin had felt at that moment before she entered the premises was occurring regularly nowadays. At first, it had only manifested itself in the recurring nightmares and, indeed, his ever so pestilent bouts of amnesia. Ever since the ascension of his doppelganger and the rising of Grima, however, it became painfully apparent what these strange occurrences really eluded to: The bond these three entities of Robin, the Hierarch and the Dark Dragon shared: The Mark of Grima.

Nowadays, whenever the symbiosis of vessel and corruption flexed their magical muscles, signifying what probably was the fall of another kingdom and definitely the loss of countless lives, Robin would, as the leftover link in this trinity, feel the repercussions as well, these fluctuations in the arcane web only reminding him more of their souls and how they were intertwined. Always. The eternal stain of guilt and identity that would plague him for the rest of his fleeting life.

He wearily eyed Anna as the girl rubbed her cold hands together and warmed them on the fire (even if the sky of Ylisse was eternally infernal, the winter nights were still freezing). At least their pestering had stopped now. He hadn't felt the constant looming of the vice of Man, not since those two merged. The spot in his consciousness that Grima once occupied was left vacant. They didn't need him anymore, and so the calling had stopped.

' Good riddance. ' He concluded out loud, which spurred the vacant peddler to mingle as well. Silently, he watched her hop skip on her legs, dusting off the muddy ends of the attire and slowly making her way towards his side, after which she promptly plopped down on her hind.

' So, Tactician.. ' She began, twirling a lock of hair and crossing her legs. He frowned on her misleading innocence, preparing himself for her usual trickery. What he got instead was a total shift in behavior, a tonal warp to a serious note. He had only experienced this one other time with her.

'Do you remember our last conversation, Robin?' She asked, staring through the lank of her eyelashes.

'Yeah, I do.' He answered sincerely, knowing exactly what exchange she was referencing.

'Turns out the ending we got was the one we feared the most, huh?' He snarked, showing some of that former lip he used to emit. It made her grimace.

' No, not yet. It's not all over yet, we can still fix this, we can-'

' Win? ' Robin sarcastically spat out.

She didn't finish her sentence nor dignify him with a direct response, instead opting to silently look into the fire.

' All I'm saying is that hope isn't all out the window.. Yet. Though our chances are growing dangerously slim...'

At least that was something he could agree with. Avoiding further eye contact (not that it had been particularly present before), he morosely nodded as the scrap wood he fed the flames stood silent witness to his misery, harkening a quietude that clearly alluded to his desire to be left alone with his thoughts. And so she did, demonstrably cracking a shoulder muscle as she hopped to her feet, pacing back a bit as she readied herself to leave. The provision tent was calling, and though she wasn't one to be beckoned, that list of stock per person wasn't going to finish itself.

' How many did we lose yesterday anyway?' She blurted out thoughtlessly on her way back, immediately slapping a hand on her gasping mouth, pupils dilated.

' Oh Robin, I didn't- '

' No, it's fine. '. He assured her, leaning back and resting his frame on his backward arms. He sluggishly eyed the starry sky as the crisp burning of the fire smoldered by.

' I'd say... About one in four? Of the real scrappers at least... Yeah, that sounds about right. The death count would total to around 50, crippling our fighting force even more than it already has. Among the fighters we lost were also some important commanders; Cordelia and Cherche, Stahl.. Sully." He named them off mechanically, sometimes adding a 'missing in action' or 'critically wounded' as to connote the possibility of them surviving the ordeal, but mainly because he couldn't stop his conscience from leaking through the cracks of his heart. These were all individuals he had thought to have known intensely throughout the years, but now that they were gone he realized how little he truly ended up knowing about them. Mayhaps it was there where his biggest failure had occurred. Trusting in bonds he himself had neglected to maintain.

Ah well, nothing to do about it those now. It was too late to rectify. The dead were the dead, and their demise was the fuel that kept him going, renewing his vow to protect everyone, though the irony was that it was this same promise that led to their death in the first place. That little fact, however, was something that the Tactician yet to realize.

'Wait, wait.' Anna interjected as he was mouthing off, 'That doesn't add up, there are a lot more Shepherds missing who were here last time.' She went on to remark, scanning the musky camp quickly before arriving on a 'I can spot some of the original crew here, but the Feroxians and Valmese all seem to be missing.'

' That is correct. ' Was all he responded ' The Khans obviously felt obligated to travel back to their homeland, and I'm assuming Virion and Say'ri felt compelled in the same way.' He wondered how Virion would react if he found out his beloved (though the admiration was unrequited) Cherche had fallen, but chose not to utter such a dark thought, instead following it up with an only _slightly_ brighter ' Who knows if they survived.'

The brusque remark elicited a light flicker behind her scarlet eyes, but their hue remained gentle. ' Well, at least the children are safe.. I spotted Inigo and Brady around the well, and Owain was somewhere around his mother's, Severa and Cynthia-

' There used to be more of us. ' Was the sudden remark that startled the both of them. So much so that they visibly recoiled in shock. Rearing their head in utter disbelief, they quickly confirmed the source of the voice to originate from behind them, though the figure that uttered it was close enough to the fire (now reduced to naught more but a smoldering burn) to have enjoyed her warmth. It was hard to make out because of the messy bangs covering the upper part of her face and the lower part stuck in her scarf, giving her speech a slight muffle, but this was all unimportant, as the trademark blue hair was enough to immediately validate the suspicions of the duo.

It had taken months of silence, futile trying and sore heartbreak, but Lucina had finally spoken again.

And it had completely taken them by surprise.

' L-lucina, you speak?' Robin exclaimed. But she ignored him.

' We travelled back in time with more children than the ones that ended up travelling with us in this age. Met up with one such child a while ago, back when I still donned the mask. He'd been send back three years prior to our arrival, nearly drove him insane... I told him I'd come pick him up again once my business had finished but.. '

She didn't need to finish that thought. All three knew what it entailed.

' How many did we miss? ' Anna inquired, giving Lucina an equally curious look, which the young Exalt returned grimly.

'Do you really want to know?'

Another sober remark, delivered with the monotone voice that surpassed even the serious tone she had normally maintained in its stoicism.

' Lady Anna, excuse me, but I have- oh!' The interruption came from Frederick, just walking into the luminescent glow himself. The orange light accentuated the many creaved and sharp lines of his cuirass, underlining its intimidating form all the way from the reinforced brace to the plated shins.

' Hello, Frederick. ' Lucina slowly worded as Anna gave him an acknowledging nod. But only the spoken message seemed to arrive, and Frederick's face lit up. Again, for the first time ever since this hell started, Robin saw someone act a bit more like their old selves, in this case the Great Knight smiling genuinely at the ones he pledged himself to, momentarily letting go of his own share of burdens and worries.

' Lady Lucina, you speak again.. How good to have you back.' He beamed.

' Hmm. How is aunt Lissa?' She asked, which in turn wiped the smirk right off his face and made the burdened frown return.

' Hasn't left her tent, as per usual. I've been trying to get her to eat but..'

' I understand.' Lucina responded. ' I'll go talk to her. Let's go.'

And with that the two left for the tent, leaving the duo of Robin and Anna to themselves.

' I should go too, Robin, try to get some sleep, alright? You're the big guy. They all rely on you.' She said softly.

' I know, I'll .. Try .. ' He smirked at how unconvincing that sounded, but the peddler just shrugged it off and gave him a nod. Turning around, she began making strides back to the provisions tent, with Robin getting up as well.

'Oh, and Anna?

...

..Have a good night.'


	5. Chapter IV: Dissonance of Other

**# Chapter IV**

## Dissonance of Other

Though the previous hours had been rife with worry and the night itself pure with fatigue, the following morning had still come way too quickly for any of the Shepherds to safely stomach. Even for Robin, who had become used to sleepless nights, the mental fortitude necessary to rouse him from his shoddy bunk almost proved too difficult for him to handle. A slow turn to the side, a flutter of the eyes, he could've been sleeping on dirt for all he cared: This rest was something he'd be willing to trade everything for.

Of course, this wasn't an option for the Tactician. A leader, in Robin's mind at least, was one who rose first thing in the morning, before all of the other troops could even _think_ of doing so themselves (though the presence of the ever so diligent Frederick made such a feat hard to accomplish). Thus so, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes (in effect only spreading it to his mandibles) and whipped himself up, already swinging one stray leg over the side of his cot as his other found solid ground below.

A tired heave followed by a strained ho later and the ivory haired insomniac had risen, sluggishly careening for his field drawers like a drunkard strolling for his ale: disbalanced. The not so fleeting smallclothes he was wearing didn't leave much up to the imagination and puffed up at the sides, making his hips look somewhat bloated. Slightly embarrassed (though he was sure no one was looking), he threw open a set of drawers and quickly ruffled through them until his hand found his regular vest and pants, both roughspun as dictated by the Ylissean winter kit. He wasted no time in putting the things on, and after doing so located his grandmaster's attire hanging at a wooden side rail.

But then, as he walked over in a mere two steps, his movements completely froze with his third as he suddenly heard another voice perpretate his tent before permeating the air within.

"Such a toned back.. And to think you used to be such a tadpole.."

Immediately, the hand he had stretched out towards his clothes flew to the side as his eyes frantically shot about trying to locate a weapon.

That sultry accent, that silky smooth tone... That darkness.. They made his body act out of automatization. He didn't even have to look to know who it was, but reared around anyway within an inkling of a second with his pivot leg. The motion of his arm across the cupboard found no real blade or tome to use, only the vase that had been carrying a keepsake dandelion. Not anymore. He grabbed the thing and almost shattered it with the force of his hand. Raising the slender vase skyward, his eyes quickly found the invader.

"Aversa-!" He bit, ready to strike with a frozen fury. No "why are you here"s or "what are you doing"s now, not at this point, not anymore. The Tactician had been robbed of that luxury of courtesy long ago.

The sorceress hadn't changed one bit. Long, sharpened nails, slender build with strong curves and a sickening darkness emanating from within, not only accomplished by the Grimleal markings on her flesh but also by her eyes, deep as an abyss and empty like a void, their hazel shape threatening to swallow Robin whole if he looked in them any longer. His mind went blank, no pity nor parley occupied its vacant premises. Just the fact that his enemy was right in front of him, and that the foe was to be eliminated. Without mercy, without remorse.

Without guilt.

... But if that was the case, then why wasn't he attacking her? And why wasn't she fighting back?

He really wanted to do it; Attack, call for help, blast the wench with a spurt of arcane energies. Fry her to the bone.

.. But that Tactician couldn't. So much hate and anger were occupying his headspace, as was the hurt that roamed within his heart, but like a headman flogging the innocent, second thoughts hemorrhaged his brain like an addled runt, the bloodletting of doubt unrelenting..

Slowly but surely, the sting was taken out of his action, his anger finding no ground to flourish. Only the thorns in his heart remained.

'W-what the hell are you doing here?' He stammered. So many questions were spiralling around his head. So few logical answers to gain. He stood there like a scolded boy in sunday school, waiting for the clergyman to rain down the coldhearted ire in spades, even when it contrasted so heavily with the Nagaen teachings.

' Why did you come here? ' He queried, genuine disbelief over this utter anomaly dripping off his face. When he got no reaction from the seductress, he put a step forward and repeated the question, only stirring somewhat of an answer after he finally put down the impromptu weapon. She carefully watched him rest the vase back where it belonged and gently swayed her hips to the side, shooting a silent glimpse the way of the slowly rousing camp outside.

' Not here. Come. ' She finally responded, beckoning him with a nudge and strafing towards the other end of the tent. To any soldier with a sound mind, all alarm gongs should've been ringing right about now. Assassinations weren't uncommon, and employed only as often as the diversion tactics that functioned similarly. Severing the head of the snake was often the most effective way to topple the beast in one fell swoop, and Robin certainly wasn't a stranger to this stratagem. It was almost perfect for a small elite force like the Shepherds. However, even considering all of the above, he had to admit that the situation as it currently was made it hard for him to predict this outcome, even if it was his job to be able to read moments like this and draw conclusions accordingly.

Aversa was acting strange. The characteristic taunting was something that had been present ever since the beginning of their history together, but conversely this candid silence he had never experienced from the woman. And so, acting outside everything his gut instinct would've told him, he silently trailed her outside - of course, after grabbing his coat from the rail- not captured by her egregious charm as femme fatale, but rather the docile fragileness she showed now. It was something so unsettlingly… Human.. That he couldn't take his eyes off this siren, who usually was so cold and cunning.

Following her to the flap of the tent, the effete Tactician wasted no time to pull it back to reveal a stunning sight to behold. Parked just outside the backside of Robin's confines was the entrancingly beautiful black falcon steed Aversa flew around on, absently faffing about with its black equine coat and its hickory brown eyes. Upon noticing the Ylissean consult, it eccentrically perked its ears and approached in wonder first, but total submission soon after, set upon by a curious air of familiarity the Tactician couldn't immediately place.

' Bellephoros was always a ferocious beast, though your heritage seems to humble even the fiercest of monsters. ' Aversa commended, strutting towards her steed and slowly petting its head amongst the breezing wind blowing past. It made him extremely uncomfortable.

Sure enough, she had complimented him, but Robin could feel nothing but averseness to the idea of his blood determining _anything_. If it wasn't for his damned ichor, the lifeblood which cursed his existence, Chrom would've never.. He quickly cut himself off. Too much unnecessary pain, too little to gain from it. Ridding his mind of the toxic thought, he watched as Aversa hoisted herself up the falcon's back and motioned him to do the same. He hesitated for a moment, but soon the allure of unfurling the bizarreness of this situation proved too much to handle and thus the high deliverer found himself taking seat behind the voluptuous body of his adversary as she drove her spurs into its sides and the two were taking to the sky, soaring far above until the camp was but a spot on the scope of his vision. He was so close to the dark clouds that had been looming over him for months now and quite frankly they were terrifying, but the dark falcon quickly altered its velocity and sunk to a lower altitude with all the grace associated with its kind. It took the parting of the clouds beneath for Robin to notice a clear spot in between, where sunny light seemed to glow the brightest of all. A little slice of preserved heaven.

' Mount Prism? Some parts of it survived the onslaught..? ' He asked in disbelief, tightening his grip on Aversa's sides as well as his legs on the saddle.

' Indeed. ' Was all she got. Though the Divine Dragon of Ylisse was no longer of this world, remnants of her spirit still lingered on the astral plane, as any living being's did. The magical footprint one cast on the world simply by existing on its own was not easily erased, let alone the colossal size of one so almighty in the hymns of the arcane like Naga. Henceforth, certain bits of Holy Ground were still left preserved and untouched, though the majority of the peak had long been perverted by the Risen sprawl.

However, that perversion of sacred purpose wasn't _here_ ; among the lush flora and the even lusher fauna of the sparkling springs, the flourishing greenery and lastly the net of beautiful flowers spread all over the side.

It was within this area that the trio slowly came to a halt, leisurely suspended in the air. Robin suspected that the dark flier had brought him here to coerce him more easily, supple the walls of his mind until they'd become so soggy and brittle that a touch would tear them asunder. Thus, the tactician removed his hands from her frame and stuck them deep inside the linings of his pockets. It was cold up here, and he somewhat pitied the scantily clad Plegian who had to keep hold of the beast's reigns. But knowing her, being as numb as she was, it probably wouldn't make a lick of difference. Her heart would always be way colder. Or at least, that's what it was supposed to be.

Because rather than kickstarting a fiendish ploy, Aversa just sat there, unmoving, presumably staring into the vacancy of the empty airspace. Or rather: taking it all in.

"Okay. Aversa? That's enough. I need to know what this is. Why are we here, what are you showing me?" Robin asked cautiously, though the sentence came out slightly cross, a side effect of him projecting in an assertive tone as to maintain grip on his emotions, and with that hopefully on the situation as well.

'..What am I showing you? ' She muttered in a low tone, adjusting her cramped shoulder blades, turning around and locking eyes with him.

' What this all is? ' She continued. ' You think I have an answer to that? There's no grander scheme, or an underlying plan to put in motion. I just had no-one to talk to. Nowhere to go with... this... Not among that drab of undead husks anyway… '

' Well then what is it that's suddenly got you begging for an ear? ' He replied sharply, though he recoiled when he saw her flinch slightly from his acute remark.

' I- don't really have anyone to go to, I thought you'd understand that. ' She in turn retorted, shoulders slumping and leaning back. It made him feel apologetic.

' I'm sorry, but- '

' I understand it's weird for me to be here now. I understand that-' _maybe even more than you think_ is what she wanted to add, but refrained from at the expense of retaining his goodwill. ' I've… Had an epiphany.. ' she slowly, _finally_ began. ' Deep on the Valmese continent, where the ancient spirits of Mila and her brother Duma once slumbered, there is a body of water, a holy place of sorts. They call it the Wellspring of Truth, a mirror to the soul. '

Roused by the mention of the Divine Twins, only referred to in dusty old tomes in Ylissean vaults from ages long forgotten, Robin shifted forward on the saddle and focused his full attention on her.

' A Spring? ' He inquired.

' Aye. I've seen it for myself. Endless rows of tombs and murky pillars mirrored on all sides by dark crevices, housing bodies centuries old. It's been said that the Valentian royal family traditionally buried their dead here, the precursors to that fool Walhart. ' She paused to recollect her thoughts.

' That's not the crazy part though.. I never intended to go there, yet I found myself strangely… Drawn to it, somehow. I'm no stranger to forgotten catacombs or weathered ruins but this.. This was different.' She stopped again, signifying to Robin that the tale was becoming grander and harder to tell.

' What did you see, Aversa? ' He asked sincerely. She beheld him with a smoky gaze.

' Doppelgangers, mirages, tons of them, all staring me deadpan in the face, all identical versions of .. me.. And then they attacked, over and over again. The entrance was locked, the light was dying, I had to face all of these .. Things.. On my own… And after that…' This was where she slumped over and put her hand up to support her tired head.

' All of what I considered to be my life was a lie, Robin. The things I saw in the mirror reflections of the water.. Those ripples, turning into visions.. They weren't machinations of tall tales or misdirection, they were images of the past. My Past.. '

The Tactician watched her raise herself somewhat as the pegasus coursed along. She had let go of the reins and now only leaned on the strong neck of her steed, eyeing the sky.

' Do you know how Plegian mind control works Robin? ' She suddenly inquired, rising up to come very close to his face. It took the tactician by complete surprise.

' I.. Uh.. I wouldn't remember.. ' He stumbled uncomfortably, unaware that his particular wording was more on track with her thought process than he could've imagined, but only to a part of her tale that would be touched upon later. She stared him intensely in the eyes, then remained in this queer position and began recounting the process.

' I've seen it happen countless times, but it is only now that I understand why it's so significant. The thousands of sacrifices to Grima, the feverish determination of the Grimleal, it's all clear. The human psyche is inseparably conjoined with the soul, and thus is the birthplace of all magic. To overstep the natural boundaries of the mind through sheer force alone is .. Nigh impossible. Even if they're aware of it or not, every human has magic inside of them. All of our souls draw from the same pool, even those of the ones who will never realize the extents of their prowess. It's the residue of essence our spirits leave on the afterlife, leaking into the mortal plane once more through a flaw of creation. To utilize this raw power, commonly classified into anima or light magic, one needs to remove the mental barriers of their mind and allow it to flow freely within. Bigotry, greed, lust.. Cleansing your thoughtscape of these vices will allow for a natural and fluid wave of arcana to be shaped in any way or form… ' Stretching out the last word, her face got covered in a dark streak.

' For dark magic, however… No such introspection is needed. Rather, it feeds on negative emotions, especially on greed, and amplifies them to the extreme. It's no secret that dark magic corrupts, and that's because its source is different from the clean, stable energy that gets left behind once someone passes.'

Her mouth twisted into a sardonic smirk.

' The forbidden Elder Magic isn't just satisfied with the leftovers, oh no, its ambition makes it covet much more. In plain words: It feeds directly on the souls, the quintessence. Thereby, a dark magic user carries all the negative emotions and sins of the ones they draw their power from. They boost themselves into a stupor where their mind will eventually break under the force and give way to insanity, since it's never been properly trained to deal with such extreme weight. The only way to save your broken psyche is to completely give in, which means that eventually, nothing of the original bearer remains, they'll become a vessel filled to the brim carrying only processed dark mana. And who feeds from this particular crucible of unholiness?'

'...Grima.' He muttered silently.

' Exactly right: Grima himself _is_ corruption, he personifies hatred. He was the vessel, borne through the blood of the Divine Dragonkind and the regrets of his creator, Forneus. Suffice to say the demon alchemist had such an industrious mind that the vessel he supplemented with his own blood ended up making _him_ the hollow one instead. And now the Dark Dragon is loose once more, all he can do is consume and consume. Until nothing remains..'

Those words sounded prophetic, but Robin realized that this reality was already coming to pass. Her story was something he did not have any problems comprehending, but there was still an unexplained aspect that was unclear to him.

' But those sorcerers willingly accepted that darkness.. Those people at the Dragon's Table.. They were just normal..- No, not that, ' - _Ab_ normal-' he corrected himself. 'What did they do to become brainwashed, didn't every person have a magical bulwark?'

Aversa nodded.

' Correct. But at that point, the Grimleal had already subverted the masses into total submission. Through fear and oppression did they slowly strip away at the will of the common man, peeling away at the layers of their mind… I was the same.. What I saw in that Wellspring were visions of a past me. A happy girl, frolicking along, playing with others, so blissfully unaware of the future…

I was unfortunately afflicted with the curse of my shadowgift, and when the Grimleal found the young, oblivious me they wasted no time in abducting her, killing everybody she knew and keeping her in abhorrent stasis for years.

They dulled my senses with nauseating dark magic in a dim room, whispering the hymns of their death god into my ear all the while. Being a youngling, my mind soon fled to escapism, which spiralled into amnesia. I forgot everything revolving around my past, and with the removal of those ties to my roots, soo to did the soil my mind placed its defense on disappear. It felt like the ground gave way under my feet and I was free falling for months…. '

She choked up here, turning the earlier grimace into a painful scowl and making Robin reach out to console, only to be stopped by an outstretched hand. She needed to finish the story.

' After so much mental torture, You cling to anything. Any light. But what I got instead was smothering darkness. Validar came by and showed me something I had thought lost forever: affection. The caring for my wounds, feeding my starved frame… That was what did it in the end.. '

Biting away a sob, she raised her head and locked eyes with Robin.

' And the second I opened up my mind to him he doused it in malevolence, drowning out whatever I had left of my past self and locking it far , far away. ' A quick swallow, followed by a shaky voice;

' B-but I've seen the truth now. All that I've accomplished for that cult.. All that I've sinned.. '

It was a solemn truth, mayhaps one that, would the tactician connect the dots to his _own_ past, prove too much for him to bear. Because how many crimes had he had to moralise in his campaigns before? How pure were his actions now, in retrospect, would one magically show up to shove them in his face? What would happen if _he_ was to visit the Wellspring of Truth? He wouldn't even have the excuse of brainwashing... Quickly his mind, like protecting his soul from the perversions of the arcane like Aversa explained, also bulwarked him from _himself_ now, resulting in a strange melancholy which' origins continued to elude him.

' I've been wandering around ever since. ' Aversa muttered. 'I know it's too late to make up for my sins, but- '

' _No! It's not too late! '_

That sudden exclamation took her by surprise, mouth visibly dropping as she leaned back into the saddle. Peculiarly, this statement rattled its yielder as much as it did the plegian sorceress, but once he had blurted it out he immediately came the realization there was no turning back now. And with that: an abrupt realization. Suddenly he understood it all. Chrom 's behavior as leader of the Shepherds, specifically his haphazard recruitment of friend and foe alike, the headache it always caused the logistics- minded Robin as his second in command... It was a sense of compassion only those in the boots of a leader or sovereign could understand. Now that Robin was filling that role, it became all too clear.

' You don't have to keep living like this! Join me, join _us_ , we can leave this hell ridden place and never return! There is a place, the Dragon's Gate, the only hope for people like us. If we can reach that we can escape to another world. Come on, only a peaceful life could await! '

Point was that he felt for the girl, and his empathy was driving him to proclaiming things he'd never imagine himself saying to the enemy. Sensitivity and compassion was something every commander would have to find ways to circumvent sooner or later. The first death amongst your subordinates is a big blow. The life of the human being you held in your hand: lost... After that, time passing, come more deaths; tens, hundreds, maybe even thousands if you manage to make it big and accomplish longevity. Demise you inflict, maybe even sacrifices for the greater good, which you'll then have to moralize. The truth is that war stains red, no one can wipe the blood from their hands eternally. No way to cleanse away the sins. Only atonement. And such was the realization of Robin that maybe this was an godsent. Maybe, this chance meeting was no simple dissonance of how it was supposed to be, but exactly what it _should_ have been. A gamble at redemption, not total absolution, but at least a chance to-

' What a tarnished coward you are. '

… Huh..? Had …. Had he.. Just heard that... Right? Was she.. ?

Face beset upon by complete and utter shock, Robin's movements froze, all of his muscles cramped. In an instant, all sense of euphoria was gone, with melancholy even further away to find. Though part of him dared not to, his eyes slowly panned from the whistling of the trees below to the stilted visage of Aversa at level height, stuttering and halting multiple times along the way. Once locked on, he couldn't look away from the sight he was to endure.

Sitting completely upright, every fiber and muscle stiffened in rage, it definitely were the eyes, dashed over by glacial fury yet still as raging like an inferno- that got to him the most. Irises as narrow as a dot and mouth strummed into a fine line, her hands clawed into the seat as she opened her mouth in rage.

' You pitiful worml! You'd run away from your responsibilities, your _destiny_?! ' She yelled, tips of her fingers shaking from the outburst. Robin immediately tried to counter as her unreceptiveness missed him completely.

' No, it's not my "destiny" to die, I- '

' But it is! _You're_ the final link, not anybody else. Only you can stop Grima from within, merge together and save the people you pretend to care so much for, slime. It's always been the burden of Robin the High Deliverer, not any of us. Even I couldn't. '

' What are you talking about? Merge together? Am I to willingly give up my soul to- '

' **Yes**! You're the Avatar, the Vessel. Only you can complete the trial. You have the power to contain Him, stay his hand. If you had truly been a hero, you would've shirked the Awakening and faced Grima yourself, you've always had the strength to end it. Just like the infernal power I could've used against those dreary fools outside my cell in my abduction, who always slept in and showed up queasy and intoxicated without fail. You have the might to stop all of this right this moment, you always have. That's why I came to get you. That's why I'm here. And you're telling me your plan was to run away and leave all of this behind?! ' She yelled.

' _I don't have that power! '_ Robin, now screaming back, retorted.

' Nor haven't had the capabilities to lead or fight your god, for that matter. Heck, I couldn't even save my own best friend, for Naga's sake! If you think it's so easy to fight that disgusting dragon, maybe you should- Ah-! '

Suddenly startled, his sentence staggered and abruptly ended in a yelp. A speeded tightening at his chest revealed the cloth strongly straddled between Aversa's slender fingers, eyeing bony through the sheer amount of force the hand was exerting with its grip. Her pupils naught more than frantically quaking dots, she cramped his attire even further, making her muscles look ready to pop at any given moment.

' Don't you dare finish that sentence. ' She menacingly bit.

' Do you know how much I've sacrificed? How many years of my youth I spent unkempt? The seas of blood spent all for Him!? I've given up so much in my service, and yet I was the one unfit while you, the bumbling _simpleton_ , was perfect in every way?! ' She shouted at the top of her lungs, voice loudly spreading through the empty surroundings.

A silence so palpable that it were as if the air itself was stirring in anticipation occurred, nature holding its breath... Aversa just remained still, her maddening eruption leaving her quaking and harrowed, but her grip never lessening. With a hoarse voice, so devoid of any care or empathy that it rung hollow to his ears she conveyed her numbness like an uncaring tidal wave swallowing the people of the shores, levelling a cold gaze on the tactician.

' It should've been me. _I_ should've been the Vessel, the Avatar. But I _couldn't_ be me, it wasn't in my blood, and now these sins of mine have no way of being rectified. Not even by you, my only hope.

..

... Coming here was a mistake. '

And those words set off a whole cathedral's worth of alarm bells within Robins mind, ringing as vexing as her voice had sounded hollow.

' Wait, what? What does that mean, what are you-? ''

And before he could very well finish his sentence, he suddenly felt the rough saddle of Bellophoros under him give way as he realized that he had fallen beneath the pegasus within a blink of the eye, his hazel pair still focused on the above as if his movement was yet to be unsuspended. It was as if time moved in staggered leaps now, and in a vain attempt to seek aid he stuck his hand out to Aversa, hoping somehow she'd rush the steed to fly to his aid as if she wasn't in fact the perpetrator who had engineered his fall. Well, catch his gaze she did, but no further action was taken. She haggardly remained in place, looking down on him with the blankest of stares.

Unable to do anything to halt his falling, all he could muster was helplessly read her lips;

' Farewell, Robin. '


	6. Chapter V: Pandemonium

**# Chapter V**

## Pandemonium

And that was the last of their conversation to reach his ears before the sensation of time and space retained its usual course and he continued to plummet to the ground at high speeds.

With the forces of gravity crushing on his chest during the fall, he involuntarily let out a shrill shriek as numerous strokes of wind surged past his quivering frame at such high velocity it tattered his robe at some places. The ground was closing in rapidly, new details quickly blurring into his vision by the millisecond, indicating the hastened descend. Terrified as he was, he discovered some kind of compulsion making him lean left as he steered towards a line of trees for as far as that was possible. It proved to be a wise choice. Upon hitting the puffy clouds of the green leaves, many branches within and verdant flora all around, he slowed down considerably. Protrusions caught his cape or hooked themselves on his sleeves and thick bark caused friction with his back, eventually breaking his fall and gently dropping him on a grassy slope.

As soon as he hit the soil, he rolled flat on his belly and exhaled in relief, though carefully- from the feeling of his chest, the toll of such luck were a number of broken ribs. Unfortunately for the Tactician though, a few fractures and a nasty bruise weren't the end of the suffering. There was more pain yet to come.

Through a clearing in the net of trees he could still see the Dark Flier up above, but now emitting an eerily purple light.

He instantly recognized the mesmerizing refractions forming the spell circles as templates for summoning magic.

Immediately he shot up to his knees, cursing vigorously as the sudden movement put pressure on his wounds and hoping it wouldn't cause any further internal bleeding. Ruffling through his pockets and remembering his compulsory actions had left him without means to defend himself he swore once more and began making his way back to the camp nevertheless, leaving an even bigger amount of profanities in his wake.

He had told her… Everything. _Everyone_ was at peril now, and it was all his fault, he was the one to blame. The only thing he could do to atone now was exercise damage control.

His run might've been reduced to a speedy limp due to his injuries but for him the musky trees and moss-ridden trunks flew past in a flash, and by the time he had arrived at the camp his adrenaline had worked away most of these pains. He was fortunate that it did, because the sight that burned itself on his retinas shortly thereafter was almost enough for him to faint on the spot.

The camp, surrounding forest and everything around it were all engulfed in a sea of flames. Disjointed screams and battle- cries shot forward from the blaze as horses whinnied in morbid fear and Risen groaned in a mix of strained hurt and glee, typefying their almost fetish-like lust for fear mongering and destruction. Speaking about the abominations, a gigantic portal was suspended over the camp, just like the one in the forests of Ylisstol all those months ago, and was vomiting them out at a steady pace. It made him realize that this was Grima going all out, it probably wouldn't be long- maybe even shorter than a half-day- before the dragon would show up himself, and then all would be lost for sure. If they would even hold out that long.

That realization marked the moment his passivism changed into action. While giving himself four hours to deal with the pandemonium at best, calculating the time it'd take them to get to the Gate and simultaneously realizing that running out of that time wasn't even the biggest obstacle here he dashed forward headfirst into the fire, quickly finding out that not all of the encampment was ablaze as he got through most of it unscathed.

Inside the dome of flames was, as he had expected, nothing but complete chaos. With tents burning and limp bodies ragdolling all around, magical blasts continuously blasted whatever untouched ground there was left, revealing the presence of arcane bombardiers outside. To his surprise, Robin was shocked to notice pockets of resistance naturally clumping together to try to offer some kind of resistance in the downpour of undead from the skies and flood of Risen on the ground. These keen individuals, forming makeshift schiltrons with any weapons they'd been able to get their hands on, were they pitchforks, arming swords or soup ladles, did their best to protect what little marksmen or magic users they had left. However, smart as these few stragglers were to bundle up, in the end they were still like the pebbles in the river amongst a rushing high tide: Powerless.

Something had to be done, a collective front had to be organized.

Luckily Robin knew that these war-hardened apocalypse survivors would keep a level head once reincorporated into a larger body. If it was one thing a human had over a Risen, it was the ability to improvise, following orders and adapting naturally, not acting purely out of ancient muscle- memory. As for now Robin had been practically invisible to the battling forces within the dome, all so embroiled within their personal tussles that the presence of the tactician went completely unnoticed.

That was about to change.

It wasn't difficult to locate a weapon, fallen warriors and risen alike were constantly dropping their own, with no battlefield thieves or scavengers to pick up the ones worth a penny. In a way, this was the biggest treasure trove Robin had ever seen. The trick was just to grab the right one. It had to be light and efficient, with decent reach to boot. Scanning the battleground as he waded further into the camp he eventually settled on a decently sized hatched, with its thick steel lodged firmly into the skull of a fallen Feroxian. Class restrictions be damned for now, he'd have time to register his second sealing later, for now, time was of the essence, and precision was key. Running at high speeds and processing battle information even faster, Robin made sure to dodge random lurkers or arrow fire on the way. As soon as even the foremost fibers on the cloth of his gloves found the leather-strapped grip of the axe he clenched it instantly and launched himself forward, savagely swinging it down on the neck of a stumbling Risen. Not registering the crunchy croak it made, his eyes were already locked on his next target, though he realized that he couldn't allow himself to get caught up in the melee. What he needed now was a clear headed second in command, a beacon for all those looking for a point to rally to.. There! Frederick! Impeccable timing as always! Through the ever thickening slog of suffocating smoke and crisp embers, the chrome pauldron on the shiny armor reflected infernal glowings as the stalwart night deflected blow after blow of a mob of particularly frenzied Risen. A quick glance revealed he had been protecting a wounded cleric, but a closer inspection revealed the lass had already succumbed to her injuries. Robin had to double check to make sure it wasn't Lissa.

' Frederick, over here! ' He yelled, waving his axe in the air and approaching swiftly. The Great Knight didn't notice him at first, but when he did, the look on his face shifted to a curious tone. A mixture of relief, bitterness and familiarity glossed over by a big dose of sternness erupted from within the brown- haired Ylissean when their gazes crossed, but he quickly put this emotions aside as the plan dawned on him. Verbal contact wasn't necessary to determine the nature of Robin's hail. Grabbing the reins of a frenzied horse within the small time frame a misplaced magic blast granted him, he was able to soothe the beast and rise to its back, throwing a weighty smack with the back of his greataxe to a heckling adversary as he shoved a boot in its spur.

While approaching him through the utter chaos unfolding around, a myriad of questions and emotions racked Frederick's inside. Why, how, why now? There seemed to be a certain ire behind his eyes, an anger not wholly reserved for his enemies alone. However, as much as the Wary loathed to admit, the Tactician was his best bet in surviving this situation, and as such he bit his lip and ground his teeth, vigorously clenching his legs into the steed's sides and closing the gap within one big leap.

' Frederick, rally! '

' Yes, Sir! '

And that's all it took for the duo to get started. With the putrid red sky crashing down on them, the pressure rising from below and the chaos encroaching from the sides, most soldiers would give up and descend into madness once more. But not them. Their work was rigorous and swift. With Frederick crashing into the sides of small conflicts and alleviating the occupied troops from their struggle, Robin quickly swept past and gave them short and concise instructions, adding them to an increasingly bigger wedge that was slowly building up in momentum as time progressed. When the Tactician felt the battle array had enough charging power, he organized them at the corners and began a straight uninterrupted charge sweep through the camp, him at the front, Frederick covering the rear.

' Marksman divisions, preliminary fire, lances to the front and start fanning out! ' He screamed at a dizzying volume. Better equipped now, he himself was about to spearhead the charge when a particular set of explosions followed by an unnatural rumbling shook the very earth he was standing on. Startled by the sudden change, he was expecting an earthquake or a landslide, about to come bury them all in the fury of mother nature, but what he got instead was the nose of a cannon loop slicing through the thick mist and the string of a ballista following shortly thereafter. That what came into vision next was something that, frankly, the Tactician had never seen nor witnessed before, not even in his wildest dreams: A big wooden contraption moving on two large wheels on the side, similar to a travel cart but lacking the horsepower to propel it forwards, yet it was advancing all the same. How this thing moved was… Beyond his comprehension. An armada of shields and blazers adorned the sides, forming a seemingly impregnable bulwark to any assailants with their pointy exterior, further exemplified by the bronze cast Lion head statue victoriously roaring to the skies. And how could it not? The springsteel ballistae mechanism was the cutting edge of technology. Robin was just about to hail for identification when a curious lid sprung open and the figure of Anna emerged.

This changed things. Immediately the answer to previous questions of how the peddler had traversed the wasteland on her own prior to joining the Shepherds and how the camp had held up until his arrival found their answer. This thing was a magnificent marvel to behold.

' Anna! W-what is- '

' Got this puppy for a steal in an Outrealm a while ago, wanted to test it out before selling them wholesale! '

' It's … Magnificent! ' He exclaimed.

And magnificent it was. This would change.. Everything. Anna was keen enough to recognize the worth to a commander for the game changing invention, but only a true strategist like Robin was able to grasp its true potential on the battlefield. With the arrival of this powerful asset he sought fit to restructure his plans and relay orders effective immediately: Retain the sweep but have it more prodding. The Shepherds were to probe the camp and herd the Risen towards dead ends, barricaded in with crude fences constructed out of broken weapons and scrapwood. After that, the grand bombardment of the Ballistician fire would rain loose, smashing huge gaps within the lines of the undead and slowly driving them back as the wedge tore through.

' Reorganize your squadrons, we fight for a reprieve and gather as many as we can before making our escape, this is the final stretch, men! '

And as such began the frenzied charge and bitter fight. Though not wholly successful, Robin had played the narrative of the battle in such a way that the message in the hearts of his troops was not one of a last stand but rather the usual missive to keep one's wits about them. Everyone had their part to play in the operation, as much as the countless cogs and wheels in the ballistician 's tank were necessary to keep it moving forward. With this change in perspective, Robin's earlier prediction concerning the resilience of his soldiers' morale proved to be accurate. Systematically, every foothold the Risen sprawl had been able to conquer was aptly smashed, primarily because the Ylissean strategy was focused on extermination rather than preservation. Strategic locations like the mess hall for provisions or arms stands for weapons were aptly ignored as the occupying enemy clumps were uprooted with relative ease. Before he was very well aware of it, they had reached the opposite edge of the encampment and eventually, the magical assault from the hills stopped as well, though Robin was certain his detachment would've needed at least five more minutes to reach..

By all means, this was cause for a celebration, as many humans were already doing. And of course, being the same species and just as susceptible to getting carried in the way, Robin wanted to as well. Things like throwing his arms up to the skies and screaming victorious cries the way to the clouds all crossed his mind, but he found himself to produce even a peep of a sound. There was clearly something holding him back. An oversight, something lacking, missing from the bigger picture.. Something inherently off.

And that's when it struck him, coming down like a hammer of meteoric force like it always did:

Grima.

No further thoughts initially came up after the realization, but the mention of the name alone was already enough to spur him into immediate action, as it were the things that went without saying that typified the aspects most terrifying about the dragon. The endless summoning had suddenly stopped, yes, but that couldn't merely be a fortunate coincidence with the fiend involved, so what did that mean? Was an even bigger mob of enemies ready to creep up on them any moment from now, hidden behind the veil of trees that seemed so far away yet so awfully close? Were the Shepherds all an instant away from being blighted and sundered in a downpour of unholy hellfire? Grima was done playing games, he knew that much. Maybe it was because of his ever so prevalent connection to the Dark Dragon, but he just _knew_. Once the Grand Schemer had its fangs around your throat he wouldn't relent anymore, a predator doesn't give up its prey easily. There was practically no escape. At least not if He couldn't do anything about it. And that might've been the most terrifying trait in the Dragon's arsenal, shaking Robin to his very core and plunging him into a state of hysteria. Mayhaps it was his emotional fragility after the exchange with Aversa or perhaps the fatigue of the battle, both in physical exertion and the blow of keeping a cool mind amidst the pandemonium or even the aforementioned link with Grima himself, but it was undoubtedly certain he was in a state of panic, even if his body had a strange way of showing it.

As if under a strange spell, his legs started moving on their own, dashing him towards the sloped hill that broke the treeline while his gaze remained strangely fixed on the same place in the nothingness above. He had completely clocked out, his mind strikingly absent as he scaled the heights hastily as if entranced. Once on top however, the image that was about to meet him would be more than enough to jog him from his complacency.

A strange stillness, though far from tranquil, filled the air of the summit. Where he had first thought himself the sole occupant of the hill he was surprised to be met by a small band of armed Ylisseans, smeared in the entrails of the arisen spellcasters that had previously staked their claim here and curiously headed by Lucina, all sharing in the same silence that had beset him as well. The wind blew softly, as if it too was fearful and tense in anticipation along with the trees, gingerly ruffling their leaves in reaction, whispering a solemn warning to any creature on the mound: The conveyance that nature itself was perpetuated in fright.

The sight down below the other side of the mound was just that gobsmacking.

In fact, that what transpired down there was an attack on all the senses: sound, smell and sight, perhaps even the soul.

Anguished moans, low pitched grumbles and frenzied shuffling perpetrated the valley beneath, revealing the presence of those about to achieve what Robin had feared so much would transpire.

Down below were droves upon droves of Risen, all fast approaching their mark with abyssal carnage. Endless bands clotting into even bigger clumps of the scum, together an ocean of purple and black, moving disorderly and unorganized but towards the same goal nonetheless. From wherever their point of origin might be, they were so numerous the horizon was as a black line, and everything from down there onwards a violent stroke of evil, brushed by the foulest of creators. It was breathtaking in every wrong sense of the word, instilling such a base fear firmly into the guts of any human that lay eyes upon it that it promptly silenced their speech.

In this empty moment of crushed euphoria, Robin exchanged blank stares with the others around him, each of their gazes a chain shackling them to each other, their boots firmly rooted to the spot. Ensnared by fear prolonged out of indecision, Robin stumbled towards the edge of their elevated position as the first undead stumbled up to the cliff. Here was a perfect showcase of the mechanics of a Risen horde. Not all of the ethereal husks had the exclusivity of past combat experience, some of these were peasants, villagers or new creations morphed from quintessence pure, reduced intelligence resulting in toddler-like comprehension. Where the first few simply crashed against the steep cliff and fell off trying to run up it, their bodies were quickly walked over as the next drove tried their luck and got just a little higher, yet still eventually falling down. The next few individuals had a small platform of their stumbling companions to pounce from, and with the help of a single elder (read: Risen of a lifetime past) showing them the way the fourth and final rank, dangerously only preceding the main horde by a few spaces, was able to start climbing the earthen wall slowly but surely, letting out their mortifying howls and grunts as they did so.

That was the moment that broke the spell the Shepherds had been placed under by their psyche, and also where Robin rushed back to the other side and jumped down the hill in a loud rallying cry to sound the retreat.

The posse headed by Lucina only moved at her beckon and call, ignoring the humming war-drums' beating in their guts. The Exalt-to-be also recognized the threat of the encroaching Risen though, nodding the group away from the horde and in pursuit of Robin's back.

It was now a race against the clock. Vying against the time and simultaneously begging for a little more.

This wasn't the only horde approaching, Robin was completely certain of that. If there was any time for the Shepherds to seek out the Outrealm Gate and bail out of this cursed world it was now, however tired the troops might be. Fact was that they'd simply die if they didn't get their feet moving, with desertion not having a chance of success as the encirclement continued to plug any gaps one might escape from. Who would want to remain in this harrowed hellscape anyway? Robin was banking on that desire for survival, just as he had banked on the self-indulgent aspects of the Ylissean nobility during the Plegian Conflict or the self-preservation that Validar showed during the Conquests of Valm. There were always certain aspects in the human nature that one could use to aid their cause, and more often than not this queer way of manipulating was widely employed, even with those whose intentions were just. Most of the time, Robin wasn't even aware of how he played with these emotions, though part of it he justified by reminding himself that it was their choice to exhibit negative traits like these in the first place. Nevertheless, it was a far cry from the supposed bonds that were to last them through time. His heart and mind were always in a dispute over this, but mainly over the issues of trust, most of which transpired unconsciously. Ironic, given his displays in the final days of Ylisse.

' We move to the Gate, Anna, lead the way! ' He yelled.

' Yes, Sirree! ' Was the energetic answer as the peddler jumped off the machine and into the fray. The hour of reckoning was nigh. If even one of those hordes would connect the others would circle around and shut the accidental formation hermetically tight. To prevent that the Ylisseans had to stay on the move, which they did, quickly reshuffling into a lightly armed core headed by a decently armed vanguard and supported by the rear guard, where the real scrappers remained. In essence, the tail of the colonne was relatively the most fortunate place to be in (if not for their proximity to the approaching enemy) and Robin wanted nothing more than to stay within its safety, but to be halted here would spell certain death, meaning he had to stay in the biggest body of troops in the middle to coordinate the retreat. He did so on horseback, but this advantage would only last a few moments. They hadn't even entered the treescape for a full minute before they began getting ambushed. Originally it were stray Risen, wandered away from the battlefield but maintaining their bloodlust. They came in unorganized waves and attacked one by one, making it easy for the spears in the front to brush them off or those in the main body to keep them busy for long enough that the rearguard could trickle in and take care of the larger sprawl. This was the strength of the column array, maneuverability on top of speed, a classical formula the Plegian warlords of old had improved upon by adding controlled gaps to the formation. To the untrained eye these looked like weak links to exploit, push in a clump of soldiers and break up the thin lines that made up the formation from within. That was exactly the kind of thinking the barbarians were banking on. Though yes, the five to seven man wide column wasn't the most durable, this was more than made up by its sides, which were like barb wire strung across a moving hand. The forward motion of the piercing weapons at the side would catch the approaching enemies from a slanted angle, forming a net of thorns that'd keep them at place before the real heavy hitters could arrive and break the enemy like a feeble twig.

For the stragglers and disjointed attacks, this worked perfectly fine. The lightness and spacing of the troops even made sure that they were able to keep ahead of the rumbling horde, which in itself was impressive as said horde was lightning fast due to the complete disregard of their own unlife the Risen showed. The dead were trampling over stumbling comrades without a second thought. A hailstorm of arrows suddenly hit the Ylissean core from both sides, pelting Robin's horse and throwing him off its back. The targeting of the midway section of the array told him that these Risen knew their mark and were a cut above the rest, assaulting the section with the highest density of soldiers. Due to the nature of the chase he couldn't have his marksmen return fire as a steady ground and focus was needed for coordinated volleys to land and he had no such luxury to make time for it, but he soon found out that this wasn't for him to decide anyhow as from two blocks of ten creature long Risen approached from the same misty and dark clearings in the woods, targeting the sides once more.

' Oh Gods, this is bad! ' He uttered to himself as his back tensed and his teeth gritted firmly.

' Main core and vanguard, fan out into a wedge, we can't let them catch up to us! ' He ordered with frantically waving arms, their jagged movements directing the soldiers to their places almost as if to physically push them the way. Where the formation would pose no threat to raiders attacking in waves, a turtle formation like this with significant depth would break it like a matchstick. The wedge formation he employed to counter this was merely to stall time. The sides that'd hook into the Risen would function like an echelon, but those were only effective in large scale battles where the staged crash of hundreds of soldiers would send a shockwave through the enemy lines. With these numbers, it'd be a mere ripple, and he had to act quickly to make sure these men weren't needless sacrifices.

' All skirmishers, on me, you too Ballistician! Fire at my command! '

Charging up an Arcfire tome himself, he fired the arcane blast in a lobbed arc right into the heart of the clump as the other spells rained down on them as well. The heavy ballista bolts and arrow fire that followed were the real heavy hitters, though, slinking through the gaps and openings smashed up by the magic bombardment before. Soon the rightmost formation buckled by the soldiers repeatedly bolstering the wedge, but Robin knew that there wasn't enough time to coordinate for a second volley like this. The other group was almost upon them, soldiers were already switching to more resilient combat stances and picking up their war-arms. But that was exactly what Robin didn't want, and thus he needed to come up with a more drastic measure.

' Ballistician, triple load of explosive kegs! ' He yelled, ignoring the shock on the ballistician 's face as he turned around and watched the clump of soldiers, because that's what they were, Risen or not. They had lowered their shields and started picking up in speed, signifying to him that the moment for a charge was prevalent. A devastating one.

' Not done yet?! ' He exclaimed impatiently as he reared his head back and clenched his glove. Fortunately the outstretched hand with a thumbs up soon emerged from within the contraption, its sights already trained on what he had been thinking off as well. The Tactician had to smirk that the shock had faded into compliance, maybe the operator was curious about the limits of the wooden tank as well.

' Clear out, all of you, prepare for impact if you cannot! ' He shouted at the top of his lungs. And as the soldiers scurried to move out of the way the Risen only saw it as an addled prey fleeing its predator. They started breaking formation and sprinting after the Ylisseans with all the guile and arrogance of one. That's where the Ballistician came in. With two big, rumbling blasts, it spouted forth jet-black leaden cannon balls that exploded on impact, propelled forth by the black powder and oils that had previously occupied the kegs- a little surprise invention from Anna tucked away within the thing. The mortars had a field trip with the tight group of enemies. Their force tore open the front and exploded in the back, ripping apart the group and sending some of the corpses flying to the wayside.

' Now, attack! ' The Tactician roared, the latter word drawn out as he launched himself towards what remained of the group, brandished blade in hand.

Maintaining a tensed lowered garde he drew near to the closest enemy and leaned out of a wide swing it made, punishing mercilessly by slashing the arm off in one clean slice. That only seemed to enrage the thing further as it berserked and shot forward, something he hadn't expected it to do. Out of reflex he threw a downwards cut into its shoulder, but the blow wasn't strong enough for the naturally more resilient foe to get downed, and so he had to put his boot to its abdomen to keep it at bay and exert full pressure on his blade with both arms and shoulders. It took a bit of seemingly futile pushing but when the blade finally budged it gave way majorly, cleaving through half the body and some more when Robin kicked it back. The groaning adversary stumbled back and spun on its axis, unable to keep balance with such major injuries. But Robin knew there was no easy stopping to a Risen's undead vigor, and so a leap to close the gap landed in a devastating murder stroke to the crease of the neck, twisting and pulling back to dislodge the upper vertebrae from the lower and plunging it to the ground.

' Don't wait for us, get back in formation and move! ' Robin yelled as he ready himself for the finishing blow. Terrifyingly, the Risen, now classed as an Entombed by him for its resilience, was still twisting and squirming with what little limbs it could still move on the ground, but Robin wasn't letting it any longer. A devastating mace-like strike with the pommel side of his blade caved in the back of its skull, finally laying it to rest. Together with the other few brave soldiers who had chosen to step out and engage rather than rejoin the group he was able to quickly clear out the other few Risen as the column was once again set in motion, wings returning to the core and once again picking up in speed. Robin's rabble pushed a little further into the woods to snuff out the skirmishers up in the trees but he quickly recalled those who waded too deep into the forests.

' Once you get cut off from the rest in there, you're lost forever, let's go! '

Sprinting at top speed, he made it back to the tail end of the group, passing Frederick at the end, rigidly coordinating the march and Lucina a bit further on, softly redirecting the unit bodies like flowing water, keeping the formation alive and breathing. The two of them made a great team even if their battle approaches were so radically different. Their first hand combat experience had given them a great amount of tactical knowledge, which is why Robin had made sure to place them where it mattered, the heat of the battle. Despite his moniker, Robin was more a Strategist than a Tactician, directing the flow of battle at large and specializing in logistics and long term planning. His place was at the centre, overviewing the entire field, or at least for as far as he could perceive it atop the machine in the middle. Once actually arriving, Robin patiently directed the Ylisseans through and in between the forest's cavern-like structure, avoiding dead ends and crooked pathways and favoring clearer terrain for quicker passing, until suddenly, finally, the netting of trees ceased and the bright sky outside burst into full glory. Not any regular sky either, but instead the full scale of divine godslight appeared, rows of broken down pillars and larger-than-life architecture inbound with a large archway in the middle of all of this, stoutly guarded by immense marble replicas of the Divine Dragons of yore.

The Outrealm Gate had come into full view.

' Our target precedes us, make a break for it men! ' He commanded, taking his own advice to heart as he broke out into a mad dash towards the Gate that had been looming tall over the fast approaching Ylisseans. He could already see figures attempting to stay hidden behind the pillars and shadows cast in irregular places, but Anna had to take time to open the Gate, she had told him the night before. Thus, he arranged his groups into yet _another_ formation. He was really calling upon every ounce of strategy he had left within him.

' Men, we're going with the Web, spread out! ' And so the troops wavered out in a circular half moon shape, their backs towards the gate. This outer shell was held together by a crisscrossing line of additional soldiers, the so called ' Lifeline ' as Robin had deemed it. As the Risen surfaced from their hiding spots and the horde, now so immense that it made an ear shattering sound with every inch it progressed, approached as well, Robin was able to assign his troops into one large crescent moon consisting of three smaller shaped ones, which should be able to hold against the excessive force of the Risen sprawl..

...Or at least it should have.

Anna was working her magic on the Gate at extreme speeds, but the morale of the troops was plummeting. The exhausting march to the Mount Prism followed up by the ambush at the camp later and the march here after all of that had been a ne'er interrupted trial, and it had been gruelling. Some troops, now feeling the aftereffects of their adrenaline, where buckling over first, now fell to the ground without taking as much as even a single blow, exhausted. This set off a chain effect, where multiple groups started wagging back and forth. There was almost no energy left in these individuals, and Robin no idea how to remedy it, making him sink to his knees with his hands to the side of his head. Had he come so far to see it all being lost? There was a high probability that answer was yes, and that proved too much for him. Frustrated, he gave the sky above a self- pitiful roar and cursed, rocking back and forth on the ground as more and more Ylisseans fell.

That's when he felt the hand of Lucina on his shoulder.

' … Get up Robin, there is work to do. ' She said, but the words felt so cold and impersonal, like a disappointed parent lecturing their child. She didn't even look at him but instead had her gaze fixated on the horizon. He watched as she ran up to the foremost circle and jumped up in extreme shock as he saw her _leave the safety of the net and plunge the Parallel Falchion into the ground outside of it._ She did it with such force that the earth seemingly shattered, though only metaphorical. In this wild display of might her cape flew backwards and her hair did so as well, following her widespread pose in exhibiting a symbol of might and courage to anyone around with functioning eyes.

With the Risen horde fast approaching, she turned around and raised her voice...

' Lions of Ylisse, rouse yourselves! I will not allow you to collapse when the end is so near, when victory is _this_ close! The vows we made to leave our birthplace and come back still stand strong, or have you forgotten about them and resolved in dying here for no cause at all? Each and every single one of you is my shield brother and sister, and I promise you that this Falchion of mine shall wait for however long it takes in this world, but _not_ without purpose, for I _will_ come back, and so shall you! If you're afraid of death, remember that the life you lay down will pave the road for our victory. The hated enemy shall perish! Soldiers, nay, _saviors_ of Ylisse, _stand your ground! '_

' OORAH! '

The stakes had been determined, the troops revitalized through sheer willpower and, of course, the amazing speech Lucina had given to rouse their battle malice. Robin was startled to even find _himself_ rising to the rally and standing on both feet. When had she awakened the power of oration like this? That rallying cry, it matched.. No, it _exceeded_ the best ones even coming from the likes of Chrom or Walhart! Looking around him, Robin found the troops fighting in high spirits, a renewed cause. But he knew that fighting solely on morale was shaky. If even as much as a dent was made in the net, it would plummet again and lead to their collapse. And that got his adrenaline pumping to do his utmost as well.

' Anna, how much time before the Gate opens? '

' I'm going to need a little more, Robin! '

And that was how the final stand of Ylisse erupted. The entire paved temple grounds, inlaid with mosaics and marblework, occupied by the Ylisseans versus the Risen who were fast approaching the staircase and piling up from the sides. It was a conflict to trump all others. With every line broken the morale and strength sunk, where every further beat of the Gate's stirring energies humming to Anna's touch gave the units new vigor. Eventually, and with a loud blast, the thing sprang open, and immediately Robin reacted.

' Start making the circles smaller, the Gate is open, get in there as quick as possible! '

And that they did, the first few Ylisseans approached the swirling blue miasma within the portal gingerly, but as soon as these testers were through the process was sped up with every new body practically diving in there. Robin stood at the entrance, making rapid arm movements and firing Thoron bolts at the Risen to aid the escapists, even to the very last few when only fourteen brave individuals, of which ten were Anna's peddlers, held the line. They stood there in the fray amidst thousands of Risen.

' Move those legs, go! The sooner we move the sooner we can close it, we- '

Suddenly, he screamed.

The contortions of the Ylissean continent blurred, a humming noise perpetrating his ears.

' A-Anna, what are you? ' He exclaimed, grasping the side of the Gates as to not get sucked in by the energies inside.

' Go, Robin! Someone has to hold them off and close the Gate and only I can do it, you have to go out there and make sure everyone arrives safely. ' She yelled back.

' No, no no I can't do it without you Anna, I- I'm not even the reason why we're all here, I can't be allowed to cross while you.. You- '

The tears he had been choking back from the shock now finally ran free, but as soon as the first drop ran across his face they got suppressed yet again. A strong tightness occurred as the peddler pressed her body against his.

' You can, Robin. Believe in me. I've never doubted you, not for one second. I have interfered here too much already, it's time to repay you for the kindness I've been shown.. You'll figure something out, out there.. ' She distanced herself and used the relaxation in his figure to push him all the way in the Gate.

' … Now go forth, I'll be waiting, okay? '

' No, no.. _ANNA, DON'T LEAVE ME, I -_ '

The etheric pull was unbelievable, its primordial power on a whole other scale. Slowly, the image of an Anna turning around and walking towards the horde grew distant and cold, the shadow encroaching on its sides..

The perception of Ylisse faded to a whisper, a mere wick of light.

' … Promise me you'll come back.. '

' _ANNAAA! '_

And the flicker faded into black.


	7. Chapter VI: Glimpse of the Other Side

**# Chapter VI**

## Glimpse of the other side

The sharp whistling of the peaks, the fuzzy contours of mountainscape, mystified by hazes of snow and cloud, they complimented the emptiness of the great expanse above quite well. The piercing blue sky was striking, unrivalled by anything other up above this net of clouds and rock- A testament to its authenticity. One would call the air here tranquil, but mayhaps a more abrasive term would suit the environment better, because while the space here was clean, energizing and rich with oxygen, it was also cold and unforgiving, so elevated that the peaks only slightly higher up were already showing signs of perpetual snowfall. This wasn't a place mere mortals could reach as of yet, and it was designed to be this way.

These were the mountains that kept watch over the Bottomless Canyon, standing tall for eons, precursors to even the First Dragons of yore.

Due to their ageless existence, the protruding mountains had also been described as the ' Finger of Gaia ' by the first men, those who beheld the nature in a mystical sense before the Divine Dragonkin proclaimed their dominion over the world. That vibe of mysticism still remained even to this day. Of course, modern astrologists and onmyoji all looked at the peaks through the lens and scope of their own age, a remnant of the Old world under the rule of the Divines, but perhaps there was truth in the ancient veneration of this place as the palette of drab grey, stark white and piercing blue now suddenly started aggressively changing again after many, many centuries, signifying the return, or in this case the entry, of immense arcane energies. The likes of which this world hadn't seen on this scale for a long time.

Bolts of lightning shot all about as all the creatures of the mountain, startled and afraid, ran from their homes and fled the peaks en masse. The sky itself started twisting into a precarious black as dark clouds gathered in formation and spawned even more noise. Quickly thereafter, a glowing line appeared in the sky and a creature burst forth, as if a blade of thousands degrees worth of temperature simply made a cut into a case full of water, the liquids pouring through from the inside so strong that they broke the glass planes. For a short moment, expansive wings as big as half the mountains' size clipped out of the portal, followed by a body so black it blotted out whatever was left of the sun's light, absorbed it, entrapped it, and disposed of it, never to return. Rows of crimson eyes and teeth sprung up as the rest of neck started to materialize, but as soon as the main body was reached, the process started growing awry. The Gate was too small, the portal's dimensions too unforgiving. One would think that, with the ease it expanded earlier with, the corners would simply expand to accomodate to the larger figure once more, and they _did_ , but the pressure was simply too much, the fleeting gateway too weak to begin with. It started rumbling the space and twisting the time, shaking the snow off the tops and cracking the eons- old stone as the portal began flickering in and out of existence rapidly and infrequently. The creature knew that was it to use force to push through even more, the threshold would collapse and its head severed off its body.

Something had to be done.

In an act of desperation, it sent out a preliminary message for knowledge and howled in fear, the first genuine one it had felt since its inception. The Gate seemed to have a mind of its own as the doors slowly started closing, dimensions lessening. It was then, at the final moments of its time in this realm, that it learned of a new skill, though it was more of a realization of something that had always been there rather than the acquisition of something completely foreign. With the final ounces of its power, it spawned a tiny bulb of energy, a last vestige of its Will, before finally retreating back and closing the connection, promptly ridding the peaks of the malevolent clouds, but not its energy, since this tiny smidgeon of mana suddenly started twisting and morphing in its descent. Like a tumor in its prime, it started growing something horrid and unholy, taking form in some kind of revolting fetus in mid-air, growing abscesses that contorted into limbs and other appendages, longer and stronger still, more human and lifelike forever. Rapidly, the figure, feeding on the energies of primordial shamanism and magics of conflicts that had been lingering on these heights, cycled through the stages of cell, birth, development and maturity, growing from a waning babe to a fully matured adult within the timespan of a few seconds. Once there, however, the natural energies dissolved and the inherent ones emerged. As it opened its eyes to the new world around it a link to its omnipotent and reality-warping parent and superego was established, conscious thought also birthing within his mind. And with that also knowledge of its purpose.

Through reverse-engineering the process of the blood pact it had made in a previous lifetime, a fragment of its Will was able to be materialized. The Dark Dragon had, in his struggles to overcome the boundaries of space and time with his physical form, fostered a child of his own: an Avatar.

Its descend was slow, but once its bare feet touched the ground, the earth shook under the Presence. Rushing tides of malevolent energy shot out and immediately killed anything that hadn't already been claimed by the harsh weather conditions or had simply failed to vacate before the arrival had been set in stone. Even flocks of birds flying below were struck and fell from the skies, pine trees even further in the valley spontaneously losing its leaves and withering, dying brittle and dry. The sensation of power was intoxicating and pleasing, even arousing to a certain extent, but he chose to withdraw the bloodthirsty tenebrosity and recall it back to his side.

Becoming aware of his nakedness, he stretched out his arm, fashioning clothing from the fur of fallen beasts and whatever else was necessary with dark tendrils shooting forth from his bony hand. The dark corrupting energy turned the cloak a deep shade of dark indigo, instilling him with an air of familiarity he shouldn't even have possessed at this point. His accrued time in this reality was brief yet and unimpressive. It must've been something the previous mark- bearer had worn, remaining as a memory within the miasma of energies that was the overarching creature, the omnidimensional source of power that was Grima.

He was simply a Fragment of its physical form, but now that it had become aware of this other reality he could feel the link with his Draconic counterpart in the realm of Ylisse weaken and his connection with the deity only growing. Suddenly, an ear-shattering roar filled the space between the mountains and rushed forth from the canyon below, breaking the sound barrier at multiple levels at such speeds that he had to conjure a ward of black wizardry to stave off its effects, lest he'd be cut to shreds.

' … _Did you hear that … ?_

…

 _...It seems like a lonely Dragon. The last of its kind._

 _Perhaps it thinks We are its kin .._

 _Well, this changes things, or were you always planning for this to happen .. ? '_

It spoke to the empty air space above.

' _Well, no matter, I shall adjust the plans accordingly. '_

And with that he stood up and stretched out his arm once more. The force that surged forth was immense, but it had every right to be. From his hand morphed a similar ball of creation as the one that had imagined him into existence, slowly morphing into an identical version of him, but clearly supplemented to grow by his own vitality. As it aged from a hulking mass of pulsating, droopy glob so did he, lining his face with wrinkles, turning his skin malleable and saggy. And his hair grey. As he was the Fragment of Grima, so too did he now divide himself up once more: the same entity, though not split as separate existences as far as the realm of creation was concerned. It was the loophole that the Dragon had previously conjured him through, and now he had accomplished what _it_ in the other world had taken eons to remember.

' _I shall go forth to the kingdom shrouded in darkness to the west and establish contact before travelling on and doing the same in the East , you shall examine the powers beneath. '_

It understood his command, but only nodded, as he had neglected to give it the power of speech. That was a mistake he had to rectify, but didn't have the vigor to tax himself so after just using his abilities so extensively.

' _Fine, we shall change places then. Go forth now. Spread Our ruin. '_

And as he closed his eyes, the doppelganger was off at incredible speeds, shifting in and out of its corporeal form as it jumped in a free fall from the cliffs to avoid collision where necessary. It was more an orb of energy than it was an actual living being, but that was fine. It would serve its purpose.

Grimacing slightly in anticipation, he dragged his hand across his face, veiling his elderly visage in that of the young and vigorous Robin his appearance had been based off once more before setting off himself; slowly and leisurely, walking down the cliffside as if all of it was already under his dominance, but that was fitting. For him, this entire world already was.

It just didn't know it yet.

* * *

' And so, after a brief physical altercation with his personal retainers and the Hoshidan servicemen, Corrin summarily retreated from the battlefield and- '

' Yes, yes, we've heard all about the _damnable traitor_ now, but what about the rest of the front? Surely you've more to recount than just the tales of one ungrateful little brat gone rogue? '

The sigh he let out was long, ragged and weary.

The ceilings of the throne room were vaulted and incredibly high, to the point where it was hard to make out the numerous decorations at the very top. Gilded pillars, encrusted with so many ornamental curves and shimmering baubles that it'd take a woodsman and miner four or five heavy swings to penetrate to the base, reached all the way to this ceiling, and every time Xander set his eyes upon the barely legible lettering above he wondered if such excessive lavishness was necessary when it contrasted so harsh with the reality of the common streets outside. It was useless, like the incessant demand for field reports from Father, no doubt instigated by that worm Iago who was at his ear constantly these days, whispering his poison; The seed of doubt and distrust. That is: if Garon wasn't listening to the ravings of his maddened God that no one else but him could perceive anyhow. Xander focused on the lines of his father's face but soon found vision blurring as thought took him elsewhere, the droning voice of Iago but a silent hum in the far background. In this bubble of introspection the Crown Prince of Nohr harshly scolded himself, dismissing any negative utterings he deemed unconstructive. This rigid discipline was completely self-imposed, but he found it absolutely necessary. The youthful Garon had always been mild on his children, sneaking them treats in between drills and returning from his expeditions with tall tales of his experiences. A man of vigor who carried a contagious patriotism for Nohr. For the Nohrian siblings, their father often was the rallying point during the vicious Concubine Wars, the battles fought secretly within the castle walls outside the eyes of even its own King and Master. Poisoned foodstuffs harming taste-testers during dinner, assassins in the scaffoldings of the halls or in the shade of a windowsill, extortion and even abuse often befell Xander and Camilla where the other siblings were mostly spared. Garon was a neutral ground as per unspoken agreement. A safe Haven. When he found out about the venomous dealings of his wives, he reportedly wept alone in his chambers for days.

.. Xander wondered where that man was now.

Was he still in there, buried underneath the accumulated stockpile of ambition, murder and betrayal that had amassed over these years? He missed him. The version of the King from which he still felt any form of affection, for whom _he_ could still muster love. But that last bit was something he vehemently denied over and over. He had talked himself into believing that this was a better situation. Supposedly this emotionless approach would make him stronger, aid him with tough decisions. He was to be shaped into a King worthy of the people despite their disposition towards him, and in that way he could understand his father's neglect and blunt directness. Just not why it was directed at his own children.

Somewhere deep within, Xander had wished to still be the eldest lad hunting in the forests of the forlorn woods with his parents, to experience that feeling when the King had first trusted him with Siegfried, acknowledging his years of hard work and strife.

Of course, he wasn't directly aware of these wants either. While his outer actions made him dependable and unshakable, a rock for others to bank on, his insides were often fractured like this. He just had a very good grip on his emotions.

' Consul Iago, Corrin was a central piece of the conflict, ' He began, unconsciously assuming the proper stance and squaring his shoulders as his diction became strict and meticulous. The speech of a King.

' Many of his actions had a direct influence on its course, we - '

' But you just said he had fled the field like a coward, didn't you? If so, then why aren't you out there hunting him down, did you not have your personal garde ready at the time? ' Iago interrupted.

' And why haven't you pushed further into Hoshidan territory yet? ' Garon, speaking for the first time since the conversation had started, added.

' The man disappeared into nothingness, were we supposed to -?! '

' Why is it you that's here giving this report anyway? Wouldn't a lowly messenger have sufficed? Iago interrupted once more, adding to Xander's frustration with the man and his insolent behavior.

' Missives can get distorted and warped by _evil-doers_. ' He curtly retorted, gaze fully and solely focused on the advisor, homing in on the single eye that wasn't covered by that ridiculous mask of his. It were words the dark sorcerer clearly took offense to, no doubt because the blunt directness of the Crown Prince tackled the elephant in the room head on. In the face of someone he knew was larger than him, not relying on the safety of Garon's presence but standing on his own two feet, Iago was beset by an envious rage, warped into a twisted scowl on his visage.

' _We_ doubt that such a ludicrous claim would actually hold any water. Realistically, castle Krakenburg is not only the best protected fortification in the realm, its net of intelligence is also close- knit to the point that I would always notice something irregular in a letter's phrasing. Surely, mere fear for petty tinkering is not the true reason why you're here, Prince Xander?

...Perhaps you've come personally because you know the war effort can't start without you? '

' I beg your pardon, _strategist_?! ' Xander responded in outrage. This was enough, the slimy little man had crossed the line this time.

' You _dare_ accuse me of postponing the attack on Hoshido? Are you going to stand there and liken my person to a traitor? Who gave _you_ the _right_ to speak to a Crown Prince of Nohr like that?! On whose authority can you possibly- '

' Xander, enough! ' The rumbling voice of Garon quaked the room and bounced off the walls, giving a hollow impression as the echo reverbed all the way to the top.

' Get back to the topic at hand. What of the rest of the war effort? How many Hoshidans have we crushed? ' It was clear that the King was not siding with his son on this matter, a decision that slighted the blondelocked prince heavily. Seeing the arrogant smirk on the advisor's putrid face was enough to make him want to wipe it clean off his frame with a hew of his blade, but he controlled the urge and turned to his sovereign in a summary manner, ignoring any further interruptions.

' Our three- pronged attack has yet to meet any major enemy resistance, mainly due to the fact that the Bottomless Canyon and the Fingers of Gaia around it have been particularly stormy as of late. As we had expected, the Hoshidan army is slowly swelling in size, drafting personnel and militia from the warlord- governed suzerainties in the east bordering the mountains. For as far as the preliminary riders can tell, they've made an effort to centralise their rallying efforts around the fortress of Jinya, so we're not expecting much resistance in the south. The Northern advance has seen some problems however.. The reports complain about a lack of appropriate winter gear, something we hadn't accounted for as we thought the northmost army would've been the swiftest to arrive. It's the savages of the Flame Tribe up there, it seems their alliance with Hoshido has held fast for all of these years, and they've been harassing our troops columns and supply lines. As for the middlemost army. It's progressing fine. Just. Fine. And now, _I beg your leave_. '

And having spoken those words he abruptly spurred around and stomped towards the throne hall's exit, more reminiscent of a gate than it was a doorway due to its staggering size. This was classic Xander, drowning out naysayers and haggard criticism with paramount excellence in what he did, so that those detractors would have to sew their mouths shut, whether they liked it or not. Without looking back to confirm if his report had hit home -he knew it had- he pushed the heavy gate aside and firmly turned the corner, progressing to the stables at high speed.

The weight of his onyx clad greaves hit the surface of the purple carpentry, creating a droning yet muffled sound that rang heavy with every step, emulating the weight of burden constantly on his shoulders. One could ask how long the prince was willing to put up with this facade of a court. The answer was as long as it would take to seperate Iago from his Garon's ears, as he was convinced that every bad decision his Father had made these past few years was borne through the sorcerer's advice. Speaking about sorcerers; a familiar face popped up from around the corner as he cut it. Though clad in a finely spun indigo doublet with the golden markings sown into the collar rather than the jet black pauldrons, cuirass, gauntlets and greaves, second prince (and unofficial runner up to the throne) Leo had retained his spurred sabatons, signifying that the royal had previously been out on a ride.

' Xander, you look as pale as a ghost ! ' He exclaimed in shock, having to adjust himself from the sobering sight by pulling a bit at his collar and planting his feet. Scraping his throat as to get rid of his hoarse voice, the younger sibling raised a serious gaze to meet the one of his brother and deepened it when their eyes levelled.

' Has Father been acting out again? We're ought to- '

'It's nothing for you to worry about, Leo.

I was going to visit Camilla next, though. Would you care to accompany me? '

It irked the dark knight that once again the eldest prince was excluding him from the burdens of royalty, but the affectionate question extended at the end of the message had dulled these sentiments somewhat.

' I would love to, but she's not currently here. She went back to _that_ place. '

Castle Clarkenstein, simultaneously the subject of both many years of peace and relaxation but also where many abject horrors transpired. The secret planning site of the concubine conflicts, were many of Garon's less fortunate children and yes, some of his bastards also, met their grim end in a shady situation of illness, accidents and ransom-less kidnappings. While that place had many bad memories, it also contained the few good ones that remained within the siblings' minds. Times where they could still frolic around together on walks or picnics; relative peace. Camilla going there after the blow of Corrin's departure on her psyche was no surprise. It was grim and nigh abandoned now as the royals had all departed to their own estates or taken to living in the chambers within the Palace of Krakenburg, but there was still a sense of familiarity in the contrast between the verdant greenhouses and the dark brickwork, the lavishly empty dining halls and the cosy dimly lit corridors.

' Why were you visiting her anyway? You haven't been home in a while. ' Leo pondered as Niles helped him atop his steed. Though they were outside the raging piercing winds rushing over their heads far above due to the lay of the stables and by extension of that the palace itself, the unnatural throbbing of the Dragon Vein at the very bottom of the crater, the largest in recorded Nohrian history, still sank deep into their guts as they scaled the many aqueducts and arches, overlooked by hundreds of sentries. Gatehouses opened and closed, bridges were extended and checkpoints opened. The Nohrian siblings could always pass with no questions asked where the rest of this occupying force was very well aware of the fact that leaving Krakenburg could possibly be an impossible task. Servitude to the Nohrian regime was absolute, but in exchange for that one could get certainty and absolution from the troubles of life. Shovelling the earth on unforgiving dead soil or making a life peddling and slinging forbidden spices under the bans the state put out to pressure haven colonies into obedience, life for a Nohrian citizens was often unforgiving and difficult. And it was like that by design. From the tribesmen of antiquity to the overlords that followed and the emperors of near memory, this principle had always been remembered and employed. Take away the ease from a life and supplement it with an easy solution: the army had always readily accepted new applicants and recruits with open arms. This was something Xander had never readily agreed with, as he was more avant- garde in believing that the ruler should live for the people and not the other way around, he realized that this absolute regime had its merits. The obedience of the subjects provided the ruler with the tools to ensure their safety. And so he ultimately had to obey as well.

' The purpose of my visit isn't for leisure, Leo. The Northern Front is running into trouble and my attention is needed there to speed the march of our troops out of the danger area. That leaves the Southern armies without a capable commander. Camilla's expertise is needed at the frontlines… '

Leo could hear the recent stern coldness of Garon speaking through Xander's words, which unsettled him. Yet that wasn't the only thing frowning his eyebrows and cramping his grip on the reins of his steed.

' And were you going to approach me about this? ' He asked, shooting the eldest a slightly glum look. He fully knew that in matters of war Xander's words could sometimes be harsh and direct in the name of professionalism, and so he was steeling himself somewhat in anticipation.

' You have your own division to take care of, hadn't your positions be defined already? ' The Crown Prince responded, slowing the pace of his ride.

' Were you perhaps hoping to take control of the leftover troupe? I hadn't expected such ambition from you brother! ' He smirked, seeing the flush on Leo's face redden his face somewhat, though the younger prince kept his composure, at least in stature. In terms of speech it was..

' Ah.. N-no.. I just.'

' Hahaha, we'll see what we can do about that position once we join up with our sister, alright? Come on now, let's ride! ' And with those words he dashed through the final behemoth of a gate at the top of the crater and left Krakenburg in a drove of dust, leaving Leo to think a final thought before joining him up ahead. The dark knight conjured up an ember of mana at his fingertips and flicked it into the ashy soil, passively watching it die out as he ruffled the pages of his tome hanging at the side of the horse's back.

'No.. Not until my investigations are done.. '

Spurring his horse, the beast whinnied and galloped in full speed in pursuit of the Crown Prince. If only times of coursing the plains would always stay this simple.

* * *

Focus from stirrings.

Cleared nuisances will blank

Droplet in thought's pond.

Trivialities distract.

Rustles from beyond

Mustn't dissuade.

Gently rushing breaths

Tickled senses realign

On breezes they'll fade

But alas, no signs

Mind too troubled shan't comply

Entry thus barred

The spring outside was never a place to sway whatever left _inside_.

This time however, his serenity broken, a sigh slipped loose from weary lips. A burdened chest with a tightness much stressed.

Perhaps his biggest mistake had been to neglect the brevity.

Looking for the cool shade, he had hidden behind the sliding door, assuming the seiza position of proper sitting and closing his eyes. Intent was to meditate, reflect on the happenings of days past, perhaps find some serenity within, but his thumb pulling at the suba of his blade and the fingers running past the ripples of its tsuka revealed that which was really on his mind: Dark thoughts of war and conflict, suppressed prayers for the deceased from that conflict- though he knew the drake of dawn would loyally take any souls of his worshippers to him- and a healthy dose of stress violently banged on the walls of his psyche, ones he had erected for a bit of tranquility. Perhaps that was where his problem laid; In trying so extensively he had let the moment of peace pass, failing to grasp its fleeting nature. In a way, all of Hoshido had, as destruction now was imminent, at least if they retained their ignorance. Opening his eyes, the mellowly colored tatami and walls depicting myths and legends from his youth were calming to a degree, but even they delivered him no solace, even though he was trying so hard for that state of quietude, which, again, was exactly the problem at hand.

But Takumi didn't know how to stop himself from trying. For him, determination and aptitude meant affection, though there wasn't much in his upbringing to give him that idea. Perhaps it was Sumeragi 's fixation on Ryoma as the eldest, or at least as he perceived it to be.

Despite his name bearing the meaning of artisan, he had never seen himself as skillful. Ryoma's was Dragon and Horse, Qilin, the birth of a Great King. Hinoka's was the Sacred Cypress. How was he to compare to the fate that had been instilled upon them from birth? Hidden fears from veiled thoughts, nestled deep within the crevice of his heart. Was he out to outshine his siblings? No. What he wanted was recognition, but perhaps not even their recognition, but really his own. He had always found himself lacking.

And that's why he was here again, in the estate of his youth, the Shirasagian manors where his favorite chamber resided. The coolness of the air was always a pleasurable fresh breath to bask in, as was the gently drowsing falling sun, draping the contours of the garden that wilted into the room an opulent hue of gold, tinted with just the right dab of laughing orange to give it that soothing glow. As if the warmth itself was smiling upon his worries. Perhaps that would be the only thing taking pity on him.. After all..

' I thought I'd find you sulking in here! '

The brusque voice of his brother and elder sibling filled the room, blowing away the unfinished thought of anxiety. Clad in a simple red kimono decorated with floral patterns and the hoshidon crest, his hair was bound in an unruly yet not unkempt tail on his back, his skin steamy, alluding to his apparent earlier soak in the hot springs.

' B-big Brother Ryoma? How did you find me? ' Takumi responded with the necessary surprise. He had truly considered his moments here clandestine.

' Hah, you always come here to sulk don't you? ' The High Prince jested, immediately holding in his tongue however when he saw his younger sibling's sullen downcast expression.

He closed the distance between them in two big steps and sat down next to his brother, abstaining from grabbing a pillow as he preferred the rough feeling of just the tatami mat on his legs.

' Is that a katana..? Have you been thinking of Father again? ' He asked with a furrowed eyebrow and concern in his tone. Takumi, as always, was impressed by the amount of depth in the understanding Ryoma emitted. Nevertheless, embarrassment drove him to denying the remark as if it was an allegation.

'N-no, that's not the case at all, I- '

' Don't lie, brother. I saw the attendants remeasuring your dō earlier, you haven't worn that thing since your twelfth cycle! ' The High Prince beamed, getting excited as the prospects of a potential sparring match. Perhaps it was better to stop teasing his sibling though, however much he might enjoy it. Besides, he had his own fair share of problems as well, some of which overlapped with those of his counterpart. His mind wandered out to the failed harvests of the rice paddies and overtaxed grazing fields to the west, the brewing hostilities between the tribes and the kingdoms in the south and of course, the full on war scenario with Nohr.

' How are the daimyo responding to our call? ' He asked, face glossed over by a serious look.

In reaction, Takumi only flinched. He had hit the nail right on the head.

' … Not that great? ' Ryoma followed up with a worried expression.

' No, not that. They're responding alright but.. Some of them don't have much more power than the regular gokunin or samurai, bringing only their levy and a handful of actual warriors to the table. And even from those warriors, the nepotism of the lords has culled the herd even more! I'm stuck with riding with greenhorn sons and inept cousins when the real scrappers would be at base camp guarding their masters! Mother's soft hand has weakened them, I don't know of how much use they'll be when facing Nohr... ' A gloomy and depressive prediction, well known habit of the second prince. When the mood caught him at certain times, he could turn out ot be especially worrisome and be a little difficult to deal with. Luckily, Ryoma had always been able to pierce this thinly- veiled anxiety and get to the core of the matter.

' The military support will be sufficient. Remember, we have a tally of our most important assets and they've only been expanding their reach these past few years. Furthermore, the support of the Fire Clan and Mokushu will pair well with the sympathies of the Wind Clan as well. We have plenty of power to face the Nohrians head on. We just need to make sure to not sow discomfort within our ranks, and you've been doing a good job appeasing the nobles, brother.'

The compliment struck home but didn't necessarily sway his disposition. Vacant look in his cognac- brown pair, he tilted his neck back and leisurely rested his gaze on the entrance.

' Do you think this is how dad would've acted? '

Ryoma 's expression shifted to something more subdued.

' I don't know if our father would've even let it get this far…'

He was about to follow up on that statement when something caught his eye. Through the thickness of shrines, torii, springs and vegetation, a large number of women, clad in finely spun white cloth and sumptuous fans, was moving about the premises, escorted by tengu-mask bearing drifters, now curiously walking in line like caged birds. For the Hidden Order of Basara, the flamboyantly dressed self-proclaimed guardian spirits claiming heritage from unacknowledged First Dragons, being seen in the company of the diviners and onmyoji of the royal astronomy house was very rare, even if the Queen Consort had previously lifted the age old census on their doctrine. It told the High Prince that something significant had happened, and he soon found that the display had caught Takumi's attention as well, who eyed it with apparent suspicion. He caught the gaze of his younger sibling and the two came to an understanding without exchanging a single word. They left the confines of Takumi's dwelling and ventured outside, quickly finding the moving column in the gardens and trying to identify a familiar face. It took a bit of effort, as the similar garbs and getup of the stargazers would sometimes make it difficult to get a good look at one's face, but they soon found the someone they had secretly been looking for.

Sat in the tall shade cast by a beautiful pink cherry tree, Orochi sat plainly in her usual get-up, counting the leaves of sakura that slowly fluttered down the glade.

' And so I've found myself in the company of two handsome princes.. ' She meandered with her eyes closed.

' Lady Orochi, would you mind telling us of the purpose of this display? ' Ryoma, speaking first after a short silence filled by the hefty sound of a leaf-carrying breeze, asked. Due to this woman being this late mother's (as he didn't make any distinction between his biological parent Ikona and the loving and doting Mikoto that had followed after her death) retainer for many years, he still retained a sense of respect for her, despite technically surpassing her rank by many, many stations. The old Hoshidan focus on seniority showing its head took Takumi by surprise, as he had not heard his brother use the proper honorifics for a while now. The war had been on everybody's mind. He wanted to speak up and reinforce the question with his own predictions but chose to abstain from doing so, as the diviner's suddenly outstretched arm caught both of their attention.

' ...The sky? '

' That's right. A few days ago, a big rumbling was heard and the stars' pattern was all distorted, an event so unnatural for this world that not even our oldest scrolls had any mentioning such a happening before. '

That took the younger prince by surprise, as he had quite a bit of knowledge about those scrolls, being able to access closely guarded replicates from a very young age where other aspiring historians would only have to do with hearsay and folklore.

' B-but those date back to a time before even Hoshido! Are you sure there's nothing in them?'

He spoke, to which she only shook her head and produced a warm smile.

' I did not take you for someone with an interest in mythicism, young prince.. Nevertheless, I speak of nothing but the truth. Such a heavy distortion in the celestial bodies can mean only one thing.. '

' A-and that is..? ' Takumi asked, daunted by the foreboding nature of her words. Talking about it seemed to increase her anxiety as well, as a light frown started to surface on her face and she let out a shoulder slumping sigh. Dusting off her frock and rising to her feet, she opened her eyes and revealed them to be void, or rather devoid, a trait shared by all divining stargazers. A sort of disconnection from the world. And that quirk was something he could live with, but Takumi wasn't sure she had heard his question because of this behavior.

' And that is? ' He repeated imperiously.

She looked him dead in the eyes.

' Interference. '

* * *

…

…...

…... Where was this place ….?

…

…. Was this.. ?

The swirly image of a musky tent, overstuffed with various works of detailed cartography, moldy tomes of ancient knowledge and figurines of war peons and rooks scattered all over the place blurred into vision. The square table in the middle restricted the movement with its robust corners and the brusque map spread over its sides, clad in innumerous markings and scribbles in bright red crayon and a shaky handwriting with a quill. Sat behind this mess on a chair was Robin, barely visible through the forest of trinkets and bookstacks, entertained in extended dialogue. Or, at least, that's how it appeared to be, because although friendly, it was a serious discussion of important matters that occupied him, or rather them, as his conversational partner seemed equally engaged.

' You have to realize that going into these troves is no mean feat, Chrom. On the logistical side we're potentially facing an organizational nightmare with managing these patrols, warding bands, food supply, resource convoys and their craftsmen. Are you sure you want to take the _low road_ through the gorge? The Valmese don't have a great grasp on the environment here yet- recently conquered territory. We could nourish ourselves from the surrounding greenery and save majorly on our food storage but we can't do that if we take your proposed route, we -'

' Robin.'

' And then there's the issue of fatigue! We already had some deserters when the troops saw the armada go up in flames because of that little stunt I pulled earlier, but now- '

' Robin! '

That made him pause in the middle of his derailing little rant. He had a tendency for rambling, one that only increased the worse his disposition towards the war was. A modifier of words increasing exponentially with the level of stress. In stark contrast, the blue-haired, clear-headed Exalt in front of him simply reflected his worries with a beaming smile.

' It'll be fine. '

A simple statement backed up by a simpler smile, the expression Chrom displayed couldn't be further from the worrisome one Robin bore. It was a confident one, making Robin halt his rambling as it always did.

Showing signs of a grimace, he sympathetically furrowed his eyebrows and smirked at his friend.

' It'll be fine you say? I wish I could be that optimistic. How are you so certain the troops will simply comply? ' He questioned, expecting Chrom to mull over but instead being met, again, by a bold confident statement.

' They won't. '

' They won't? And why is that? ' Robin, now laughing, responded.

' Because as I trust in them, so too do they trust in me.'

Words that rang true, and characteristically wise coming out of such a seemingly thoughtless statement of childlike innocence. It was the natural flippancy and charisma Chrom possessed, thinly veiling a deep unconscious understanding of human emotion and morale. Empathy and sympathy working hand in hand, these were the qualities of a great leader and sovereign. Robin realized there was truth in his words and decided to drop the subject. He would simply have to adjust the plannings and accommodate the strategy without creating a big fuss, becoming the shadowy planner behind Chrom's bright leadership. Immediately, he pulled a parchment out of a drawer from his desk and gathered his measuring utensils, fully intending to cross- examine them with what little information the scouting outriders had return with to forge a new plan. But it was then when Chrom's next words struck.

' But do you trust me? '

The message perked Robin's ears, as it had struck him as odd considering their deep bond.

' What, of course I would, do you- '

' And can I trust you? '

That sound of that was so putrid and wretched that it immediately made him let go of all tools and launch back in his chair. The gargled, grumbling groan that slipped out of the Exalt's mouth jolted his reflexes and before he knew it he had grabbed for his blade, but no-! This was Chrom! This was his best friend and companion: Chrom! He forced himself to drop his sword with great effort and then pushed through to level a gaze on his counterpart, only to be repelled by the repulsing sight that met him; Ashen grey skin dotted by purple blobs from oxygen-deprivation slowly spreading and colorizing a disgusting yellow, the blue hair as thin and dry as straw and the body contorting in many abhorrent twisted positions as the mouth foamed with blood and saliva, perhaps the most striking feature of this terrifying display was the enormous cavity in his chest bursting into a wider gap every moment by the surge of electricity that burned at his insides. The magic flowing freely and violently from his heavily spasming figure, the revolting stench of burned flesh, blistered bones and fried blood violated the Tactician's nostrils as the guts and other innards sprang forth like a demonic umbilical cord. The last thing he saw were the bloodshot eyes, permanently focused on his face but struggling to do so as the physical trauma rolled them back into its cavities.

' Chrom? What in Naga's name is going on- I- ?! ' Every neuron in his headspace was telling him to act and he twisted every muscle and fiber to put himself into motion, but he was trapped; unable to move in a stasis, stuck in a time bubble as he saw his lifelong friend rapidly wither and decay into a rotting corpse, ridden with bulging warts and pulsating masses. Miraculously, there still seemed to be life in the blistered husk still as the neck mechanically reared his way and the gums flapped up and down, the rotting eyes of the corpse popping out more and more with every syllable uttered.

' How many more must die before you take your responsibility ?'

' No, Chrom you don't understand I had no- please, I- I had no other option! '

But the wailing pleas from a desperate Robin fell to deaf ears as the corpse turned into a carcass and a fouling stench revoltingly announced its existence on the room. Where this place of cherished memories was a safe haven at first, it now had its confines completely perverted by unholy energy, the darkness spewing forth the former Exalt suffocating.

And in this exit less nook Robin realized there was no way to leave, the torment would last forever. Pupils narrowing into barely visible dots, he threw his head back into the sky and let out a tormented scream at the top of his lungs, never to see the light of day. And then the room tore itself apart.


End file.
